When disaster forces the fierce griffins to seek shelter in Equestrian land, can two very different societies coexist? Or will the ancient enemies tear each other apart?
The ancient and powerful Accipion Empire has conquered every nation on Equus... except one. Despite their apparent weakness, the magic of friendship has protected ponies for many years. Emperor Gaius Renault thought his kind would rule forever, that they would have ample opportunity to conquer their ancient foe.
Nature had other ideas. Beneath their claws was a force of unimaginable power, a volcano whose eruption will devastate the empire and smother their crops for years afterward. Even his most optimistic advisors agree that there is only one choice: evacuation.
Equestria might be friendly, but they are no fools. They send a pony, Starlight Glimmer, to see that the terms of the evacuation are followed, and to help the griffins integrate during their time as refugees in Equestria. But blood runs thick, and old rivalries can't just be forgotten.
The longer Starlight Glimmer watches, the more she is convinced she is witnessing the end of both nations.
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This story was commissioned on my Patreon by Vilken666. Thank you so much for making this story possible!
Coverart by Zutcha, who maintains his perfect record. Prereading by Two Bit and Sparktail (sometimes).
Emperor Gaius Renault sat upon the Onyx Throne with no outward sign of the absolute despair he felt. No bird in his vast throne room—not the dozens of his Plumage Guard, not the advisors flying or scurrying about, not even the slaves—none could know what he was feeling. Such emotions from a griffon were a terrible thing. It was not wise to chum the waters in a kingdom of predators.
Gaius was not an old bird, but he also was not a young bird. There were feathers missing from his vast expanse of gold wings, there were patches of fur going slightly gray. But for all that, there was no sign of weakness in him. Below that fur was still powerful muscle, claws sharpened daily, and a keen intellect for war. Any could oppose him in challenge at any time, so appearances were important.
A pair of creatures hurried into the room—one of his Plumage Guard, along with a slave. The zebra was far from its lowest kin that worked the mines, grew crops, or any other task that was below a proper griffon’s notice. Zoya was a spellcaster proficient in the old magic, a valued member of his household and slave in name only. She wore a gold chain around her neck instead of an iron one, and it wasn’t nearly tight enough to cause discomfort. That chain was a protection from the others of his kind, not a hindrance to the zebra who wore it.
She did not speak in the emperor’s presence, of course—not with so many birds around to see. It was considered radical enough that she was permitted into his presence, up the iron walk that led to the throne, where she extended a silver tray with a single scroll resting on it. The scroll that would decide the fate of his empire—perhaps his entire species.
Gaius gestured down towards it, and one of his other servants retrieved it—a griffon this time, his steward. It would’ve been inconvenient to have a steward who was religiously barred from speaking at court. Of course, like all males, the steward wouldn’t be able to read the letter any better than Gaius could. “It is from Equestria?” he asked the zebra in a low whisper—low enough that many of the birds assembled in the Onyx Hall would not be able to hear.
She only nodded in response. It was a testament to her quality that Gaius could not read anything about what the message contained from her face.
Leopold made his way up to the throne, watched always by the Plumage Guard on either side. They had their weapons ready at all times—at the slightest indication from him, they could cut down anyone he ordered. It was not something his Plumage Guard did very often, though some of his predecessors had been less judicious. Leopold offered the scroll in one claw, which Gaius took. The parchment roll was lighter than he expected, though it was sealed. Bright gold wax, with a little sun mark set into it.
“Should we wait for the clan lords, my emperor?” Leopold asked. “I know they wait for the contents of this message with the same anticipation we do.”
“We will not,” Gaius ordered, his voice as confident and authoritative as ever. “Steward, summon six scribes from my household. They have five minutes. And bring my wife as well.” He chuckled. “No ultimatums for her.”
Leopold took to the air in a brief flurry of feathers, vanishing out one of the Onyx Hall’s many upper passages. As all members of the royal household could fly, the palace was not built to accommodate lesser species confined to the ground. Slaves and others who weren’t birds weren’t allowed into the nests of the ruling clan anyway.
The scribes arrived first—six females young enough to be outside their nests, though none were married. Marriage meant becoming an officer of her husband’s rank—it meant losing a scribe. But unlike other kings, Gaius did not discourage them. As difficult as it could be to train new scribes, his old ones made for valuable contacts across the empire. A tool he had used many times.
Each of these wore the colors of Clan Virtue, the same purple and gold that he wore. He recognized a few familiar features—speckled feathers here, heterochromia there—traits that marked these birds as distant relations of his family. All birds in the clan were connected if you went back far enough.
His wife arrived from the passage concealed behind him only moments later, her own robes ruffled and hastily donned. Birds didn’t dress often, but court was an exception. Since a female would have no armored uniform, that meant robes. “This response better be good,” she whispered to him, as she entered. “I just got out of a meeting with my engineers. Their projections are dire for all of the Accipion Empire.”
“No hope of reversing the trend? You’re certain there’s no mundane path to prevent an eruption? No miracles?”
She cut him off, shaking her head. “It is impossible, Gaius. The forces we’re dealing with are beyond the comprehension of any bird in this room. Perhaps our great-great grandchildren could’ve been prepared, armed with some of the inventions my most talented engineers are at this moment only dreaming of. But no, there is no time. The horses will pass judgment on us.”
“They will pass judgement on themselves,” he said, proffering the still-sealed scroll to her. “Everything is prepared. Every airship, every bird, every slave. All five of the great clans are ready.”
His wife broke the seal with one claw. As she did so, the scribes he had called in earlier crowded a little closer to the raised dais upon which they rested, alert and attentive. She unrolled the scroll with great deliberation and care, though of course she wasn’t going to rip it with her claws like some hatchling not even out of the nest. Only when it had been completely unrolled did she start reading, her voice clear and words slow.
“High King Gaius Renault,
“Equestria has diligently considered your petition. Given our history, you must understand the difficulty of accepting your request. Though many of your generations have passed, I remember King Vercingetorix, and the betrayal of Queen Avernian. We know the heights of virtue to which your kind might soar, and the depths of treachery. We know how Equestria must seem to you, with your society so much as it was centuries ago.
“You must know, further, that the devastation this eruption will cause will inflict terrible harm upon all the world, including Equestria. Though we will escape its pyroclastic fury unscathed, the climate of Equus will not. It remains to be seen whether the magical prowess of our kind will alleviate the famine that will follow.”
Emperor Gaius felt himself tensing on the throne as he heard the words. The princess—he didn’t know which of Equestria’s royals this was yet, as the writer had not introduced herself. Whichever it was, whether the new and unknown princess of the moon, or else the terrible searing desolation of the sun princess, it seemed as though she was trying to excuse a refusal yet to come.
There can be no refusal, royal cousin, he thought. You know this as well as we do. We cannot be expected to stay here and die in flames. What are you planning?
“Nevertheless,” his wife read on, to the silent and enraptured hall. Every bird in this room understood the gravity of their situation, even the lowliest guard. They had heard Emperor Gaius deliberating over this for months. “Despite our relationship of the past, we cannot damn your country to destruction. We understand what a refusal would mean.
“We give, therefore, the following conditions. A swathe of territory unused in Equestria since ancient days will be allocated to refugees from Accipio for exactly ten years. Following that time, it may be possible for your birds to re-inherit your ancestral homes, or some other home. If not, the terms will be renewed every decade following until you may return.
“Secondly, the ships of your fleet will be disarmed upon entering Equestrian airspace. They will not be permitted to cross into our borders until all the gunpowder weapons have been cast into the sea. You will not be permitted to create new weapons of this kind during your stay within our borders.
“Lastly, an advisor of my court will be arriving by airship within a week of your receipt of this message. She will be granted access to observe any aspect of your evacuation, and will report back to me. Should she fail to do so, or indicate anything to suggest you do not plan to obey these terms, Equestria will treat your ‘refugees’ as an army of invasion.
“We do not wish to see the griffons of Accipio destroyed, Emperor Gaius. But if you force us to choose between the lives of our ponies and of your griffons, we will do as you compel to protect those we love. Act in accordance with this treaty, and this time of terrible distress might instead become an opportunity for new friendship and an end to the ancient feuds. The choice is yours to make, Gaius. Make it wisely.
“Princess Celestia”
Guinevere Renault paused for effect at the end of the letter, before turning the scroll over so that Gaius could see. “There are maps here, Gaius. The territory they wish to give us. It is… not as much as we were hoping for.”
That was the first of his fears—his birds couldn’t be contained in one place—without enough land for themselves, they would have no choice but to spread to Equestria at large. What would they do once they had? Would they grow weak and soft, as the ponies did? Would they forget their heritage? Or worse, would they remember it too well, including the ancient feud with the pony creatures.
While few of the colorful equines remembered that chapter of history, the griffons had never forgotten. Of all the nations they had ever faced, Equestria alone had not bowed the knee. Equestria alone had separated Accipio from total dominion. If the birds of his kingdom decided it was their duty to rectify that ancient defeat and bring honor to all birds, well… it was possible they would spell the end of both species.
“It could have been worse,” Gaius said, though in truth he didn’t believe it. It couldn’t have been much worse without the ponies demanding their entire nation enter slavery. Requiring them to give up their weapons would sound like the intention to enslave them as soon as they passed over the borders.
Gaius was one of a few birds in his kingdom who would know the inherent absurdity in that notion—the others would assume Equestria worked the same way Accipio did, because of course it would. But he knew better—he knew that the ponies had never tolerated slavery.
In the days of ancient warfare, when the armies of the long extinct Endurance clan had been defeated in their invasion, they hadn’t been enslaved—instead, they’d been given territory, and built their own home in Equestria. He had seen that city once, and it still gave him nightmares. It was terrifying what could become of his birds when stripped of their virtue.
We won’t become a shadow of ourselves. We won’t become pets. He rose slowly from the throne, spreading his wings wide as he did so. “Record my proclamation, scribes. The Accipion Empire agrees to the terms offered by Equestria. All the clan lords are commanded by their monarch to prepare every bird, every citizen, and every slave for departure. They are required of the throne to leave none behind, even the lowliest slave. Advise any who protest that if they cannot find room aboard their airships, they might take this opportunity to remove their weapons in advance.
“We will be faithful to these terms, for we have no choice. We cannot win a war against nature and against our ancient enemy at the same time. We will survive the first, so that one day we might triumph in the second. This is my command.”
He landed again on all fours, roaring a call that echoed in the hall and would no doubt reverberate to the city all around.
“One more thing,” he said, as soon as the sound had faded. “Inform the Clan Lords I will hold council in one week’s time. They may bring whatever objections to me at that time, but not before.” Then he sat back in his throne, folding his wings against his side.
“Go!” the steward called, gesturing to the scribes with an urgent wing. “Find messengers and see the emperor’s words delivered!” They soared from the room in a flurry of urgent feathers.
“Well, if you haven’t just caused a civil war, we might just survive this,” Guinevere said, settling onto the padded seat beside the throne. “I assume I should order my engineers to begin retrofitting Clan Virtue’s fleet immediately?”
“Yes,” he said. “Though… begin with the smallest ships. I don’t know how the council will end.”
“Miss Starlight, we’re just about there. If you’d like to join us on the deck, this will be your only chance to see Scythia from above. It’s not an opportunity I would soon miss,” Sure Heading said, stepping aside from the door to her tiny cabin so she could follow. He had been a considerate first-mate during the whole voyage, though she would’ve expected nothing less. Considering what Twilight had paid for this trip, treating her like royalty every made complete sense.
“I would like that very much,” Starlight said, following him out of the tiny cabin and up the stairs. “Have you visited Scythia before, Heading?”
The old pegasus nodded. “A time ‘er two Miss Starlight, a time ‘er two. There are some goods a pony can only get if they’re willing to trade with the griffons, if you catch my meaning. The Wintergreen trades with everyone.”
“What are they like?” Starlight followed as quickly as she could, ignoring the slight airsickness as the ship swayed with the breeze. She had expected that a few days of travel would be enough to get used to it—she had been mistaken. “The griffons, I mean.”
Heading met her eyes. “Ever been to Griffonstone?”
She nodded. “A few times. That was why Twilight recommended me for this mission.”
Up ahead, the doorway onto deck was open, and sunlight streamed in. She could hear voices outside, sailors apparently busy as they prepared for landing. “Well, forget everything you ever saw. Those griffons are like the ones in Accipio the same way your pet cat is like a mountain lion. Some things in common, but… Equestria has tamed those birds. Not the ones you’ll be visiting. Every disturbing rumor you’ve ever heard, it’s true.”
They stepped out into the sun. Starlight Glimmer spent a few seconds just standing on the deck, adjusting to her vertigo. The gasbag loomed huge above them, the breeze blasting past. Fresh air helped a little with her airsickness, though not enough to make it vanish immediately. Now that she was on the deck, she could clearly hear the gentle humming of the thaumic impeller engine, which had made this incredibly speedy trip possible. The engine was a prototype, and it was also the payment for this mission. The Daughter of Wintergreen would be richly rewarded for its humanitarian service.
“Do they eat meat? Yes. Do they cook it? Not usually. Do they kill each other? Often. Do they keep slaves? More than you can count. Basically, they’re as different from us as somepony could be and still think the same way.”
Starlight made her way to the railing, looking down over the edge at Scythia.
Like Canterlot, Scythia was built into a mountain. In terms of scale, though, the buildings here made Canterlot look puny. All ancient marble, some yellowed but most scrubbed white. It could’ve held ten ponies to every one that lived in the pony capital. She recognized the straight line of the aqueduct, carrying in the enormous amount of water it took to sustain the city. There wasn’t a single cloud building in sight, or any other overt signs of magic. And indeed, she knew from experience that the griffons had no more magic than most creatures. They weren’t ponies.
Most impressive of all were the shipyards. It seemed as though half the city was devoted to docks, wooden platforms that stretched over nothing, with aircraft moored at most of them. It looked like hundreds were under construction. Compared to these great vessels, the Wintergreen was an insect. There were zeppelins here that looked like they could carry ten thousand birds.
“You make them sound like monsters,” Starlight said. “I know they aren’t. Celestia wouldn’t be letting them take shelter in Equestria if they were. She would be sending them away.”
“Aye, you’d be right there Miss Starlight. They’ve got some things going for them mighty uncommon for ponies. Brave as anything, those birds. I’ve seen bird ships sail straight into a hurricane and fly out the other side. Not only that, but they’ve got an honor right uncommon with pony folk. Say just what they mean, and take what they say to the grave. If a bird is upset with you, they’ll say so. If they plan on killing you, they’ll say that too. And tell you what they’ll do when they’re done.” He shivered once, scratching at the stump on his left side. Sure Heading was a pegasus with only one wing. He’d never said what had happened to the other one.
“Well, I need to be attending to my duties. I’d stay away from the edge as we come in for a landing—we tend to bump around quite a lot. Wouldn’t want you to take a tumble.”
Starlight didn’t point out that she could fly pretty easily with her magic if the situation called for it. That was an enormously uncommon skill for unicorns, and not something she wanted spread around about her. Most ponies were already uncomfortable with all the magic she could do.
Starlight returned to her cabin as they flew down to the docks, packing for her journey to the imperial palace and trying to prepare herself mentally for what was to come. She had read a few old books on the griffons during the trip, at least when she could look at the pages for more than a few minutes without throwing up. She had learned a great deal.
She hadn’t wanted to explain it to Heading, but Starlight had another theory about why Celestia and Luna had agreed to take the griffons in. Not because they thought it was going to go well, but because they didn’t feel like they had a choice.
The history she’d read about Accipio, what little had been written about them, was terrifying, both in scope and in brutality. The Accipion Empire had started as a single kingdom among many. After conquering the rest of their species, they’d moved on to subjugating and enslaving everypony else in the known world. So far as the books she’d read were concerned, everywhere now bowed to Accipio to one degree or another.
Everywhere except Equestria, the only nation they had failed to conquer.
They couldn’t conquer ponies, and apparently, they can’t conquer nature either.
Nopony could’ve expected the very core of their territory concealed the geologic terror of a megavolcano. It wasn’t just the core of Accipio that was threatened, of course. Equestria would not be escaping the disaster unscathed. But ponies had been prepared in a way the birds were not.
She knew they’d finally secured at the dock when she heard the shout of “Crew may disembark!” ringing through the tight wooden halls. She made her way up the steps, feeling a little apprehensive. Heading was waiting for her near the gangplank, marking down the names of ponies as they made their way ashore, as well as writing down when they planned on being back. He waved politely with his single wing as she approached. “Ready to go into the belly of the beast there, Miss Starlight?”
She nodded. “I better be. But what’s the worst that could happen? Starting an international incident, provoking an invasion, dooming thousands of ponies to their deaths?” She laughed nervously, starting to hyperventilate. “It’ll be easy. Being the personal student of a princess sure is great!”
Heading nodded slightly, apparently understanding her distress enough not to offer empty words like ‘I know just what you’re going through.’ Starlight had come to like these sailors over the last few days—they were far more practical than the average pony. “Well, we’ll be ready to cast by tomorrow, if you need it. We’ll be listening to the signs, ready to fly away if it looks like our predictions are wrong about…”
“I don’t think they will be,” Starlight said. “Twilight’s precise with those sorts of calculations. If she says it will take three months, she means three months exactly. If she says six months, two weeks, and one day, that’s what she means. I checked her spell myself—disasters on this scale are easier to see coming than you might think.”
“Not so easy somepony saw this coming a hundred years ago, and started moving birds to safe places then. Or started thinkin’ up some way to make it never happen in the first place.”
“True, true. But honestly—” She leaned in close, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I’m more afraid of the griffons changing their minds about having us here. I’m only the student of the Princess of Friendship. I’m not as good at this as she is.”
Heading leaned back, shrugging one shoulder. “Must be good enough, or else a princess wouldn’t have picked you. I’d say you must be able to handle it.”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling in spite of herself. “I guess you’re right.” Of course, she knew full well what all the princesses were doing—preparing Equestria for its population to double. Maybe more. Nopony knew for sure just how many birds there were. And it wasn’t just birds that would be flooding in. Some of the most disturbing reports suggested that half the world might be coming to Equestria. The nation had plenty of empty land, but what it didn’t have was enough of anything to care for that many people.
Starlight Glimmer made her way up the gangplank and onto the dock. She had her saddlebags, since she would probably be living in the palace for the next several months. The Daughter of Wintergreen would be ready to leave at a moment’s notice if something went wrong, but otherwise its crew would be getting a few months of paid vacation in a city full of predators.
The docks were packed with creatures. There were a few ponies, though almost everything here didn’t seem to be. Griffons moved about in bustling hordes, wearing a great deal more clothing than Starlight was used to. Many of the birds had what looked like uniforms of a sort, made from stiff fabrics and dyed in drab colors. They looked like the same species she was used to from back in Equestria, though something of what Heading had said stuck out about them. They were a little fiercer looking than the birds in Griffonstone, their voices harsher and a little less friendly.
Which was saying a lot, since the griffons in Equestria were already a hooffull-and-a-half to deal with. Only a few of them understood the importance of friendship, and those few didn’t seem terribly good at it. These birds had sharp beaks, sharper claws, and eyes that stared with obvious hunger as she passed.
The most disturbing thing about Scythia wasn’t the birds, though. It was the slaves. They were everything she’d feared, minotaurs and zebras and stranger things wearing collars around their necks. They worked with downcast eyes, never looking up at her and always getting out of the way of anyone who got too close. It didn’t seem isolated to non-griffons either, because there were some birds with collars as well, working with the same emptiness as any of the others.
What kind of civilization is willing to enslave its own people? Starlight didn’t let that line of thinking persist for very long, though. In some ways, she had enslaved her fellow ponies in Our Town. She had used different methods than chains and whips, but it was the same thing in the end.
“Equestrian citizen!” called a voice from nearby, loud enough to startle her from her thoughts. “Equestrian citizen!” A bird landed in front of her, a full head taller than she was and wearing a crisply cut uniform. He had a weapon on his belt as well, something made from wood and metal that she recognized from her reading about the griffons. Apparently it was called a “flintlock,” though speculation on just how powerful these weapons actually were varied widely. Ponies agreed they shouldn’t be a threat to a unicorn who could make a good shield, but beyond that nothing was certain. Starlight Glimmer would remain ready to defend herself every moment, just in case.
“Yes?” she asked, straightening a little. “How can I help you?”
“It’s how I can help you, actually,” the bird responded, his tone almost friendly. “My father is expecting an official representative from Equestria to arrive today. If that’s you, I’m your escort. I’m here to make sure you make it to the palace without any trouble.”
Your father. Starlight didn’t know very much about Emperor Gaius Renault, except what Celestia had told her.
The bird continued, “Emperor Renault is wise and courteous beyond most others of his kind. I believe he is a ruler who can be trusted.”
Starlight nodded. “I’m the envoy, yes. That would make you… a prince?”
He shook his head. “We don’t have as many empty titles here. I am his oldest son, if that’s what you mean. Velar Renault, pleased to make your acquaintance.” He extended a claw to her, talons glittering sharp. Sharp enough that she knew without a doubt it could tear flesh. And he probably does. On a daily basis.
Starlight reached out anyway with one hoof. “I’m Starlight Glimmer, Celestia’s representative. She would’ve come herself, but preparing for your arrival is going to take all the Alicorn magic we have.”
Not-prince Velar gripped her hoof with surprising delicacy. “I’m sure my father understands.” His expression darkened a little, and he lowered his voice to a mutter. “I don’t believe he would have accepted the terms of this treaty otherwise.” He let go, turning for one of the many twisting paths that led up and away from the docks. Starlight realized abruptly that many of the birds standing nearby were all wearing the same uniforms, carrying the same weapons.
Velar’s honor guard.
“Come on then, Starlight Glimmer. My father is eager to meet you.”
To say the meeting had not gone well would be a bit of an understatement. The lords of all the great clans had been there, obeying his call. He had guessed that at least some of them would be unhappy about the promise he had made on their behalf—he had not expected an actual challenge to his authority.
But just because it wasn’t expected didn’t mean Emperor Renault wasn’t ready for it. Of all the birds who might defy him, he had even expected it to be Lord Gabriel of house Vengeance. It could only be Gabriel, the most ruthless bird in all the Accipion Empire.
Gabriel had given an impassioned speech, repeating aloud what he had only dared to whisper until then. That Gaius had not just lost his courage, but his mind. Gaius had forfeited the right to rule, and it should pass immediately to his family instead. Needless to say, that challenge had to be answered.
It was a shame, in its way. Gabriel had once been a friend. He didn’t look forward to killing him.
Scythia’s great arena was filled with birds, he could hear them even through the thick stone walls of the preparation room. A dozen of his Plumage Guard stood around the outside of the room. In the days of his ancient forefathers, they would’ve been covered from head-to-paw in glittering polished steel. But gunpowder had changed all that, made metal armor that could’ve cost the wealth of a household near useless. These days their armor was made of cloth woven from metal fibers, which could stop small bullets or even the blade of a knife.
Needless to say, the survival rate of the Plumage Guard had declined in the last few generations.
Gaius wore something similar, though the padding was somewhat thinner, more made to insulate than it was intended to stop a sword or a bullet. There were some ancient weapons that had retained their power, even through the years. The same weapons Equestria hadn’t asked them to give up. If they had, Gaius would’ve taken it as the symbol of everything Lord Gabriel had insinuated.
The doors at the far end finally opened—not the ones leading into the area, not yet. It was his wife, along with half a dozen of the latest engineering team she had trained. They pushed a heavy wooden cart between them, or rather his wife watched as her young engineers pushed it. Stored within was the reason the emperor—and the other great and powerful warriors in the empire—did not need either metal armor or firearms.
“Well, it’s as ready as it will be,” Guinevere said, stopping the cart before him. She alone the guards didn’t watch closely—her students provoked a little notice as they approached, with a few more guards moving close to him. Just in case. “You’ll want to give them a good show. No doubt Gabriel will be as prepared as we are.”
“His preparation will not save him,” Gaius said, rising from the bench, and making his way to the opening in the cart. He took the same sturdy stance he had been trained in in his youth, when his father had insisted his only son be proficient in the use of the family heirloom. The artifact could easily break the limbs of an unprepared bird who donned it too quickly. “Today is a day of punishment. I will show the other lords that disobedience will not serve them here. I will remind them why I am the emperor.”
“I’m sure you will,” Guinevere said, in a tone that just bordered on the insubordinate. It was not a voice he would’ve tolerated from anyone else. But his wife was an exception to all that. Someone needed to keep him grounded.
She moved around to the other side of the cart, along with all her engineers. The guards retreated from near the entrance, a few of them looking visibly intimidated. Such overt magic was a rare thing in Accipio, given how few magical residents lived there. None of their training or their weapons could protect them against what was trapped within the metal container. An artifact left over from a terrible time, when monsters had ravaged all the world alike.
Guinevere pulled sharply on a lever in back, and the metal door swung open. The spell leapt out, like a furious insect, filling the air with an angry buzzing. It found Gaius.
His training prepared him for this, and he had forgotten none of it despite his age. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and waited for the magic to work. It took only seconds for the armor to form around him, weighing him down enough that there was a brief strain against his legs. Dark metal in overlapping plates, like a gigantic angry turtle. It was called Voidsteel, named for the light-devouring quality of the metal, as well as its resistance to the overt magics possessed by other races (like ponies). Wearing it, Gaius was nearly a foot taller than he was without, an imposing figure that could easily break furniture or even buildings if he wasn’t careful.
A few of the engineers dropped into nervous bows as the spell was complete, though from the annoyed sounds Guinevere made it was clear that was not what she wanted of them. “I have a bit of news for you before you go out to eviscerate old Gabriel,” Guinevere said.
Within the helmet, her voice sounded louder than it might outside it, as his senses were enhanced. Not just sound, but sight, vibration, everything. The armor did not allow its wearer imperfect senses. “Go ahead.” The helmet did not muffle his voice, though he could remove it if he wished. It was, rather, enhanced, so much that he had to speak very quietly so as not to echo through the stone ceiling and be heard by every bird on this side of the stadium.
“The Equestrian has arrived. Our son has decided they would be better served by observing the event from our private box than waiting in the palace.”
The likely consequences of that decision raced through Gaius’s mind in a few nervous seconds. If he won, that would mean some sensitive pony consort watching the ruler of another nation brutally dismembering one of his colleagues. If he lost, the pony would be trapped in the proximity of a new emperor, one who had risen to power on the agenda of invading Equestria. The first thing he would probably do was kill the pony, and send their head back to Celestia as a sign of what was to come.
You couldn’t even do an invasion correctly, old friend. You care too much for bravado and remembering old defeats. “I guess I’ll have to give her a good show, then. Show her what the birds are really like.”
“Her,” Guinevere repeated. “You impress me, husband. You didn’t assume Celestia would send a male?”
“Of course not.” He walked past her, massive boots shaking the floor beneath him. The arena was one of the few places in Scythia that was built to handle the stress such armor put on a building—he would’ve shattered the paving stones of a common road. “Equestria is the placid sow to our hungry lion. I would not be surprised if fires there burned cold.”
“The reward of your strategic education astounds me as always,” Guinevere said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. But whatever else she’d been about to say didn’t make it through the sound from outside—chanting, it seemed like. Gaius’s opponent had evidently taken the field.
Gaius had to get out there, or else Gabriel might win the crowd without him even being there to answer. “Sounds like it’s time,” he said. “I hope Gabriel’s son can lead Vengeance better than his father.”
The only answer was Guinevere’s laughter as two of the Plumage Guard flung the doors open for him.
Gaius emerged into the cleared field of the arena to the sound of thunderous cheers. The arena rose around him in many tiered levels, with those possessing the most important family names near the fighting ground itself, and those of decreasing importance spread further and further out. Even the slaves had seats near the upper tiers, though he wasn’t sure how slaves would be able to see much without a bird’s sight.
Gabriel was standing in the very center of the arena, wearing Voidsteel armor just as Gaius was. Every artifact was unique in some minor way—Gabriel’s had a spiny ridge running down the back, as well as glowing red eyes. The voice of his enemy boomed through the arena, proclaiming how Gaius had sold the whole empire into slavery, how he would see the ponies put silver collars on even the highest birds. How the ancient enemy was decadent and weak, ripe to be conquered.
Gaius let him talk—another Clan Lord had that right, though he did march slowly to meet him in the center of the arena. His own Plumage Guard filed behind him, three solid ranks now. Fifty of its hundred members were here. He imagined they were in for a frustrating few minutes, considering how little opportunity they would have to protect him.
Eventually Gabriel finished blustering, and Gaius himself stepped forward. His own armor had one advantage Gabriel’s lacked—its unique trait was the wings, which could lift it into the air and fly as fast as any bird. So far as he knew, it was the only set of Voidsteel in all the world that could enable its wearer to fly. It would belong to Clan Vengeance if he lost today.
Gaius hovered twenty meters or so in the air, trusting his guards to warn him if Gabriel decided to begin the bout early. By sacred law, they could not raise a claw to protect him, though their firearms would’ve done no good against Gabriel even if they did. “Lord Gabriel has offered you one path, Birds of Accipio! Vengeance has always been quick to remember our failures, and slow to see wisdom. If it were up to him, some of you would still be starving, because we held too tightly to the memories of our ancient methods of farming. Your soldiers would still be fighting with their claws, because we were too foolish to educate our wise and use their gifts.
“The time of another great change is coming. We cannot ignore the fire rising from below, and we cannot stop it. We also cannot fight two wars at once. Accipio must devote itself completely to surviving nature’s assault. If we split our forces, divide our resources between confronting the Equestrians and the natural threats assailing us, we will be defeated on both fronts. For the sake of every bird, for the sake of our great conquests and triumphs together, we must proceed in cooperation with Equestria.”
“You see?” Gabriel interrupted from below. His voice was exactly as loud as Gaius’s, but somehow the crowd seemed to be listening closer to him anyway. It was also against the rules. “He would see all of you turned into a gelded parody of yourselves! Gaius would build another Griffonstone!”
Trying to hold Gabriel to the strict letter of the code today would only strengthen his rival’s case that Gaius had grown too weak, and no longer trusted in his own strength. “I will not!” he countered, and abruptly he stopped flapping his wings. The armor dropped straight down, less than two meters away from Gabriel. The other bird retreated, apparently unable to judge the course Gaius would fall.
The armor caught the impact, reverberating through the stadium like a bird striking a gong. Gaius spoke into the silence that followed, his voice echoing from all around them. “It is not brave to fight a war we cannot win, no matter how justified. If you follow Gabriel, you will follow him to your deaths. We must face the enemy beneath our claws together. Equestria is a mighty enemy, a worthy adversary. But if we do not secure a future for our children first, it will not matter.”
“We will see,” Gabriel called. “Let all the honored birds among us bear witness! Our claws will decide what path Accipio will take.”
Gabriel charged, tearing up chunks of rock with his armored talons as he went. The crowd roared, many races filling the air with shouts that transformed into a near-uniform rage. Gaius could feel the bloodlust rising, his ancient blood demanding satisfaction. But he fought that down, as he had done so many times before. Gabriel would not have the discipline, and in doing so he was constantly ruled by his anger.
Gaius had to be something different, something better. If he couldn’t, then birds everywhere would have no future. The empire his ancient ancestors had fought for so many years to build, fighting monsters and rivals, would be destroyed by a random act of nature. He would not allow that.
Neither of them carried weapons—not until the last moment. As they neared, the armor provided weapons—a pair of spiked morning-stars for Gabriel, one in each claw. For Gaius, a single warhammer, so large and heavy he needed both claws to swing it.
They met with an impact that shattered more rock, and sent echoing shockwaves through the arena. As they got close, Gaius dropped his hammer completely, ducked under one of the morning-stars as it went down, and struck at Gabriel’s breastplate with a single armored fist. A single piece of the metal shattered around the point of impact, splintering with bits of still-liquid metal as it cooled.
Gaius felt a shock on his own shoulder as the second morning-star came down on him, and a section of his shoulder plate shattered. They kept on moving past one another, both roiling from the force of the impact. It would’ve been enough to shatter the bones of unprotected birds, as indeed he’d seen it do to many an enemy on the battlefield. There was a reason why the minotaur battle-lords all wore slave collars, even if they were twice the size of any bird and twice as fierce.
“I never understood you, Gaius,” Gabriel said, as they paced around one another, a pair of predators both searching for an opening. “Why would you let an enemy strike you like that? Why close with me if you knew you couldn’t parry both blows? And now here you are, unarmed.” As he said it, Gabriel kicked back against the warhammer, sending it sliding along the floor of the stadium. And to some extent the bird was right—his armor could only grant a single weapon at a time. He would have to take hold of that hammer to change it to anything else. “It’s the same way with this pony thing, isn’t it? You’re too afraid of defeat to be bold enough to take all of it. A halfway emperor for a halfway Accipio. Not for much longer.”
“I’m sorry it came to this, old friend,” Gaius answered, matching Gabriel’s pace exactly. Ready to spring if he looked like he was about to attack. “I’m sorry you couldn’t see. The volcano is set to open under the heart of your land, why couldn’t you of all birds realize what that meant? How much we need diplomacy with the old enemy?”
“That is precisely what has given me the sight you lack,” he answered. “I know what will happen to the birds you wish to rule. I won’t let my children be born into an Accipio without its soul.” He charged again, flailing both of the terrible weapons as he went.
As before, Gaius let him come, prepared to roll with the blows. He led with one side, forcing Gabriel to strike at his intact arm. As before, he had to take a few blows in order to land a few of his own. He didn’t need weapons when he had his hindlegs braced securely against the ground—Gabriel’s own charge lent force to his strikes. With his damaged arm, gauntlets still intact, he bashed against Gabriel’s back legs, breaking more plates.
This time Gabriel was determined to close, and he dropped one of the morning-stars, flailing at Gaius’s breastplate with the other.
Gaius knew the strength of his armor, and he knew that without proper reach, Gabriel wouldn’t be able to shatter it. That weapon took enormous space to swing, as well he knew.
Closing with him was a mistake. As Gabriel beat against the breastplate, Gaius himself secured a grip on the other bird with both claws. Then he started to fly.
There were no rules against flight in Voidsteel battles—why make a specific rule for something only one suit in all the world could do? He heard the shocked gasps from the audience as they rose into the air—his own wings struggled with every beat. More than that, the armor of the suit could barely lift. And Gabriel all the while kept whaling against his chest. He felt the first little breaths of cool air against his feathers. If the breastplate shattered, the rest of the armor would lose its magic until it could be repaired.
The emperor kicked out with three of his limbs at once, dropping Gabriel from nearly the height of the stadium. The armor didn’t have wing-openings, no way for the other bird to steer. He dropped to the ground.
There was a terrible crash as he hit, and a fissure split down the middle of the stadium. Armored birds could fall from such heights without difficulty—but Gaius knew this bird, he’d seen him fight hundreds of times. He liked to land on his back-legs, as most birds did. He put the most trust in those parts of the armor Gaius had weakened. Both legs shattered on impact, probably followed with the bones within. Then the breastplate hit, there too where Gaius had made a small hole. That hole became the nexus for a fracture that split the entire thing into weak sections.
Instead of a living tank, Gabriel was now trapped beneath the weight of his armor, along with the terrible damage probably inflicted on his body. His voice was barely audible from within the helmet, screaming in pain, begging for help, for mercy.
His armorers rushed in from the open doorway to their side. Gaius landed before them, and barked an order to his own Plumage Guard. They formed up in a solid line along the middle of the stadium. “Both parties agreed on the terms of this duel!” Gaius shouted to them. “Any who violates those terms forfeits their life as well!”
Gaius lifted his warhammer in both claws, panting as he made his way to where Gabriel still lay, twitching in vain as he tried to remove the armor from one arm.
“P-please… old friend,” croaked the bird from within. “I c-can live in your new empire. Have mercy.”
Gaius rose onto his hindlegs, lifting the terrible warhammer in both claws. “Let it be known to birds everywhere what fate waits for those who defy the emperor! Let them know the strength of house Virtue!” He brought it down squarely on Gabriel’s helmet. Without the chest plate to power the magic, if offered no more resistance than a tin can. The other bird’s head became a red smear on the shattered floor.
Eerie silence descended on the arena—shouts of indignation and rage from the Vengeance section had all died. Dueling was the favorite sport of birds from all over the empire. But death of the participants was a rare thing. The last time a clan lord had killed another had been before gunpowder was even invented. Gaius caught the face of the pony in his own box, sitting beside his son. She looked shocked, horrified, disgusted—the same things that many of the other birds in the audience were feeling, probably. Just moreso.
Gaius stepped over the corpse, looking out into the crowd. “Let my will be known to all birds in Accipio!” he shouted, voice booming through the silence in the stadium. “Our treaty with Equestria does not make us weak. It means we have the will to survive, even if the cost of that survival will be high. If there is any bird in the sound of my voice who doubts my right or power to take Accipio through this difficulty, let him come forward now!”
He stopped for a moment while looking in the direction of each of the clan’s boxes, pausing to find the clan lord in each one. They looked away, one after another, cowed by the terrible display they had just witnessed. Only when all three of the other surviving clan lords had turned away did he rise into the air again. “You have seen the fate of the empire decided before you. You know now what waits for any who defy my will. Go now, and honor your citizenship. Help us triumph over this terrible enemy facing us.”
The crowd gradually dispersed, uneasy tones following. Gaius had seen carefully, and he had seen no more sign of the dissention that had plagued that initial meeting. His uneasy allies in the other clan lords would all obey his will. Thus was their sacred law, to which they were all honor bound to uphold. Even so, he would have to keep an eye on Santiago of house Vengeance. Gabriel’s son would no doubt hate him for the rest of his life, assuming he didn’t already. That would be one more direction to watch for daggers.
Gaius let his armorers help him into the preparation room, and remained still as they removed the Voidsteel. One by one they placed it back into its containment box, where it would gradually melt into the pure magical essence that composed it. Charged by arcane energies, it would be ready when he needed it to fight again. He could only hope that wouldn’t be against more of his own birds. Let Gabriel’s death buy many lives unwasted.
“Well, that sure was… something,” Guinevere said, as the armorers worked. “Not as long as a proper battle, though. I thought you said you were going to give them a show.”
“I did,” he answered, grunting with discomfort as some of his fur had to be cut away to get the molten metal free. “It wasn’t about giving the senate entertainment. It was about reminding them who rules in Accipio. They won’t fear Equestria’s retribution, so they have to fear mine instead.”
“So determined for peace,” Guinevere said, only a little mocking. Not nearly as sarcastic as she had been earlier that day. “Is it really that bad if the other clans change their mind and decide we ought to conquer Equestria while we’re there? We are the rightful rulers of Equus.”
Gaius stiffened a little, recognizing this technique. This was one of his wife’s favorites—forcing him to improve his own familiarity with a subject by arguing against her actual position. “It’s so easy for birds to forget Equestria’s armies never defeated us. So easy for them to look at pony cities ripe for conquest and not consider what power makes them that way. We already have one supernatural power determined to see us slain. We could not survive three.”
“Of course not,” Guinevere agreed. “If they listened to their wives read a little more history, you wouldn’t have to remind them in such a… gruesome fashion.”
As she spoke, one of the armorers placed the newly-cleaned warhammer into the case with the rest of the armor. As with those items, it started melting away the instant it was contained inside, a steadily-growing clump of liquid, living metal. This was why the breastplate had to be removed last, since once it was back inside the rest of the armor would start trying to seek out a new wearer.
Gaius didn’t get a chance to respond—the doors at the far end of the hall banged open with enough force that one fell right off its hinges. His son Valor was there, trailing behind a furious-looking pony. Despite her small size, and the comical pink color of her coat, there was an anger on her face as vivid as anything Gaius had ever seen on a bird. She was one of the horses with a horn, and it glowed faintly, with the same kind of unearthly energy that powered the armor he was removing. He half-wondered if he should jump forward into the metal box, which would return all the armor to his body. Only wearing the suit would he stand a chance against an angry unicorn.
His Plumage Guard stepped up to close the gap, forming a tight line between Gaius and the unicorn. She actually laughed as she looked at them. But they couldn’t aim their firearms at her, not with his son, who they were also sworn to protect, standing beside her.
“Away,” he called. “Let her pass.” Some of the guards looked relieved as they moved aside, others only more frustrated. Today was not a good day for guards getting to do their duty.
Gaius turned to face her, conscious that only his wife had remained at his side. None of the others in the room with him appeared brave enough to stand their ground in the face of a powerful unicorn. It was enemies like this that made a war with Equestria such a bad idea. “Welcome to Accipio,” he said, unflinching though he had only the breastplate intact on his body. “I see Celestia’s mastery of timing continues to be without equal.”
“You could say that,” she said, without bowing to him. Not that he really expected it from her.
He would not hold a foreign dignitary to the same standards of his own citizens.
“But the princess didn’t tell me I would be visiting the kingdom of a tyrant and a murderer.”
“I don’t suppose you were listening to my father’s opponent?” Velar asked, his voice every bit as sarcastic as his mother’s had been. “Lord Gabriel represented everything hostile to your nation. He would have seen Accipio prepare boats full of soldiers instead of refugees. He would probably have seen us invade the volcano too, once the eruption is over!”
“What is your name?” Gaius asked, before the pony could respond to Velar’s question.
“Starlight Glimmer,” she snapped at him. Apparently this pony was not particularly frightened by authority—just what kind of little horse could look at someone as mighty as him and not feel a little fear for herself? If this was typical of their kind, perhaps he had been even wiser in avoiding an invasion than he had previously thought.
“And yes, I understand. I heard everything he said, and it was exactly what some in Equestria expected from you. Most of the nobility are convinced that the instant you get inside the borders, you’ll start pillaging like a bunch of bloodthirsty savages. I agreed with Celestia in arguing against that point of view, but now I think maybe I was the one who was wrong. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to see in that.” She flicked her tail towards the still-open doorway into the arena.
“Our ways are not your ways, Starlight Glimmer,” the emperor said. “When I agreed to the treaty with Equestria, you’ll find nowhere in that document did we agree to change the way we run our empire. Accipio is not set to become an Equestria puppet, or Equestrian slaves.”
“I understand that.” The glow fizzled out from around her horn. “But why did you have to kill him? That other bird, Lord whoever, you beat him! You made a fool of him in front of everyone. That landing… looked like the complications might’ve killed him anyway. What kind of barbarians had to kill an enemy you’d already beaten?”
Gaius felt the anger rising in his chest, but he swallowed it. Exactly as he had fought it back on the arena grounds. “You may not approve of our ways, Starlight Glimmer, but if you weren’t ignorant about their reasons, you might judge them a little less. There is no bird in all Accipio with as little honor as Gabriel. He was the one who set the terms of that duel, he insisted the fight would be to the death. Do you know why?” He shoved one of the armorers aside, advancing on the pony. He towered over her, nearly a foot taller than she was. This time, he did catch a brief flinch from her, radiating the scent of fear.
That is as it should be. “If Gabriel had won an ordinary duel, he would’ve forced me to act the way he wanted, and invade Equestria. He would’ve forced me to break the terms of the treaty. Thousands of birds would have died, and who knows how many ponies. But that wasn’t enough for Gabriel—he wanted to be emperor as well. Only by killing the emperor can one of the current clan lords claim the title for himself. What kind of ruler do you think he would’ve made of a subjugated and enslaved Equestria?”
“That isn’t a war you can win,” the pony said, from less than a foot away. The more she spoke, the more Gaius grew impressed with this pony—she was bold enough to speak to him as not even his own family often dared. She was as courageous as any member of Clan Valor. “Equestria would beat you. We’re ready for the volcano, and we’re ready for you.”
“Maybe.” He turned his back to her, making his way back to the armorers. He let them resume their work, and remove his breastplate. “I am determined never to know what might happen in that event. So many young lords play with the lives of their subjects like counters on the great board. It is so easy for them to ignore the price they pay with each move, because those prices are paid by those beneath them. It is right to spend the blood if the goal is good, they think. Or maybe they think as Gabriel did, that because the course is ancient it must also be correct. I don’t see any of them hurrying to farm the way the ancients do, dumping their fertilizers into the river. Or bleeding themselves as the ancient doctors did, hoping to balance their humors.”
“You didn’t have to kill him,” Starlight Glimmer said again, stubbornly.
Gaius didn’t even turn around. “If I hadn’t killed him, Equestrian visitor to my empire, then I would have proved the very point Gabriel had come to make. I would’ve proved that I was too weak to rule. His challenge was defeated, but some other lord would’ve challenged in his place. Besides Gabriel and myself, do you know how many of the remaining three lords favor peace? One, house Valor. If I had done as you suggested, Equestria would be facing invasion. Gabriel’s voice whispering discontent in the shadows, constantly moving his allies to provoke a war. He would have got his war, during the time we can least afford it.”
Guinevere banged the metal doors of the cabinet closed, trapping the Voidsteel within. Her engineers would repair any damage it had taken, along with caring for the new set he had won from Gabriel. A pity he had only one son, who already had his own set of Voidplate. Gaius would have to think who would wear this new set.
“The stories we hear from Equestria led me to expect you to be more intelligent,” his wife said, staring down with disapproval at the pony. “Here you stand, having just heard a cry of war called out against your nation. My husband puts his life between Equestria and the armies of birds ravenous for war and with nowhere else to go for shelter, and you respond with moral outrage. Would you prefer an invasion? We can’t hide ourselves away in the mountains and hibernate until the danger has passed, as the dragons have already begun to do.”
Starlight Glimmer opened her mouth to retort, but Guinevere only raised her voice. “I’m not finished yet. Not only has my husband just put his life in danger to protect the treaty, he’s put it in danger to protect you as well. If Gabriel had won just now, which pony do you think would be the first to feel his wrath? I just can’t imagine where he might find one to use to symbolically declare his war. Oh wait, there was one in the box a few feet from the arena.” She turned her tail on Starlight, huffing indignantly. “The least you could do is show a little respect.”
She didn’t even wait for a response—Guinevere gathered up her engineers and marched out of the preparation hall, rolling the cart of Voidsteel along with her.
The unicorn half-looked like she might be about to lash out at someone. But then she slumped, looking away from him. “I don’t know if Celestia will be happy to hear about this.”
The emperor shrugged. “When you write to your princess, make sure you get the words spoken today exactly right, Starlight Glimmer. I can have a transcript sent to you. The princess already knows how we resolve our disputes. What you tell her will not be new information. We have fought many wars, and some of them on the same side.”
Of course, the emperor had not been alive for that time—whatever secret to eternal life the Alicorns had, they didn’t share it with their own kind, let alone enemy rulers. Gaius knew of several who had chosen that reason exactly to go to war with Equestria, hoping to make themselves eternal emperors. But Celestia still ruled, and they were all dead. It is wise for a bird to know he cannot move the mountains.
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m suuuure she does.” She turned away from them, huffing and puffing for a moment. “I’ll… be back tomorrow.” She vanished in a flash of bright light, leaving the space entirely absent. Several of the guards gasped—probably they hadn’t believed that ponies could really perform such incredible magic. Gaius himself was not surprised—he had killed ponies before. He knew what they could do.
“Do you think she’ll jeopardize the treaty?” Velar asked, into the silence that followed. “She didn’t seem… happy. You should’ve seen her while you were fighting. She looked like she was having a fit.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Gaius said, after a long time. “I saw her eyes. That pony knows what it is to rule—she’s done terrible things of her own. She hated what she saw because it reminded her too much of herself.”
Velar laughed. “Starlight Glimmer? Did you smell her? It’s like she bathes in shampoo. Painted hooves, mane delicately groomed… she’s like a peacock. No danger at all.”
Gaius did not laugh. “That is precisely what makes them so dangerous, son. You see a bird with blood on his beak and you know he has killed before—but a few drops of poison in his glass and a female can kill him without effort. Ponies are like… a whole race of females. None of them know how to fight, but they are all cunning. Do not be fooled by what you see.”
Prince Velar nodded, though he didn’t feel convinced. The vanishing act was an impressive trick, but he’d seen magic shows before. No doubt the pony had dazed them with a flash, then gone running. Dramatic exits were the stuff of females who couldn’t fight their own battles. “I will… go check on the preparations of our fleet,” he said. “I wonder how many I will catch trying to conceal weapons this time.”
Gaius nodded to him. “Be careful, Velar. Gabriel’s supporters will want to strike back at me if they can. Don’t drink anything with less than half measures of water.”
Inwardly, Velar swore. But he couldn’t let that show. He just saluted again. “Of course, father. I will be careful.” Besides, you insist I take my honor guard with me everywhere outside the palace these days. I wouldn’t be in danger even if you did let me celebrate your victory properly.
Velar flew from the arena, nodding politely to Derek, captain of his honor guard. He did intend to check on the ships, as he had promised. He was no scruffy hatchling out of House Vengeance, content to cast his words adrift like shed feathers into the wind. A bird without his honor was less than an animal.
He arrived at a shipyard bustling with activity—renewed after the result of the duel. A few of the workmasters looked visibly disappointed to be back to disarming the great fleet—though they belonged to his house (or were at least employed by them), they were still birds. Anything they did to make themselves weaker seemed alien for a griffon.
Still, they remembered his last visit, and he found no more secret cannons tucked away behind casks or under the false bottoms of lower decks. Each of the captains saluted him, congratulating him on Gaius’s victory. Insisting that they had been in the stands rooting for him.
Some of them even sounded like they were telling the truth.
Velar walked from the docks rather than flying, lost in his thoughts of honor and war. He could still hear the pony’s terror when he had told her that Gaius was going to kill Gabriel. Hear her begging to stop the battle. How can creatures so weak have resisted us so long? Why hasn’t their society come apart?
He slowed a little as he passed the slave-market, listening to the sound of shouts from outside. Half a dozen soldiers wearing blue Virtue uniforms were gathered outside one of the merchant houses. Velar stopped in the street with the crowd, listening to the confrontation. He heard a brawl going on inside—wood smashing, glass shattering, before a bird went plummeting from the second-story window. A brutish minotaur leapt down after him, wrenching the merchant up by the neck before he could fly, dragging him off to the leader of the enforcement team.
Velar recognized both at a glance—the merchant’s name was Cass—one of House Vengeance’s slimiest, dirtiest scoundrels. Velar was fairly certain he had somehow found a way to sell his own wife, though such stories were impossible to verify.
Velar heard a gasp from beside him, a very familiar sound. He turned, and saw Starlight Glimmer was only a few feet away. His honor guard obviously didn’t consider her a threat, since they’d let her approach without resistance.
“You want I should break his neck, Gina?” grunted the brute. The bird in his grip continued to struggle, slashing with claws at whatever he could reach. The minotaur ignored the gashes, instead squeezing tighter and tighter. Until the bird stopped struggling.
A griffin with a stripped white and black coat glanced down at the pad of paper in front of her, then up at the line of slaves standing outside the merchant house. They were a sorry lot—some of the worst Velar had seen in a long time. Half-starved, with a few infected wounds in skin or coat. “No need,” the bird said, marking off a few things on the form with her pen.
“Are you prepared to act civilized, Cass?” She tore the top sheet away from the pad.
He nodded, and she snapped her claws. The brute dropped him to the ground.
Immediately he rose, clutching at his throat with one claw. “You can’t… take my… property,” he wheezed.
“Actually, we can.” She extended the sheet. “Every piece of merchandise in the building. You’re already liable for the cost of their treatment—do you want to lose your license as well?”
He took the paper so quickly it ripped a little in the center. He didn’t look like he could read it—anything but the numbers. Most males could read those, even if it was pushing the bounds of propriety. “Lord Gabriel will be hearing about his,” he muttered, storming back towards the merchant-house.
Velar couldn’t help himself—he laughed. “That’s the best you can manage, Cass? You should’ve known you’d be brought in one of these days. Can’t treat slaves the way you do forever, eh?”
The bird only cursed in response, ignoring him.
Starlight Glimmer had been making her way closer for the entirety of this exchange. She stared past the line of enforcers as they began escorting the slaves away. “Can’t he? I thought that was the point.”
“Of course not.” Velar didn’t look sideways—pretending like he hadn’t realized who she was. “Honor requires certain rules to be respected. The strong own the weak, but it is their responsibility to be good stewards. You could ask the enforcer if you want specifics.”
Officer Gina was passing them at that moment, at the back of the line of slaves. She noticed him, saluted, but didn’t say more.
“No, no.” Starlight shook her head vigorously. “I don’t want excuses for what you do. I know all about that.”
“Well then.” Velar turned now, trying to look polite. “Perhaps you’d like to enjoy some wine with me instead. I know a place that serves an excellent vintage—and all the vineyards are set to be incinerated in a few months, so we might as well enjoy it while we can.”
The unicorn looked at him with an expression he couldn’t read. Shock? Disgust? It was so hard to judge pony emotions. “No thank you, Velar,” she spat. She vanished in another flash of light before he could make a reply.
Starlight Glimmer stared off the deck of the Daughter of Wintergreen, her whole body shaking visibly. Being so close to a princess of Equestria, and what she’d done before, meant she had been exposed to her fair share of terrible things. In her past, she had inflicted some of that suffering. Her experiments with time travel and her vengeance against Twilight Sparkle still gave her nightmares.
But for all that, she had never seen such naked barbarity. The griffon prince had been so kind, so courteous. He hadn’t wanted her to come to the arena. Unfortunately for him, Starlight Glimmer knew that the place a diplomat needed to be the most was the place nopony wanted her.
She’d seen alright. Seen the ruler of this nation kill one of his colleagues over a disagreement.
Granted, that death had probably saved Equestria from invasion. It had preserved the treaty, strengthened the rule of the bird who most wanted peace between them. The bird who could take the life of a helpless foe begging for mercy, then stand a few feet away and talk to Starlight as though they were about to sit down for tea.
“I’ve seen that look before,” said Sure Heading from behind her, coming up to the railing a few feet away. The old sailor must’ve snuck up from below decks, because Starlight hadn’t seen anyone aboard besides the watchmen. She would’ve probably gone to her cabin if she had thought she might be interrupted. Looking over the railing into the griffon city wasn’t that important. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well up there. The griffons plan on breaking the treaty?”
“Well… no,” Starlight Glimmer admitted, glaring down at the deck. “I almost wish they were. At least then Equestria would be fighting the bad ponies, instead of letting them in.”
“I don’t understand,” Heading said, in mock ignorance. “If they aren’t breaking the treaty, what makes them bad?”
She looked away from the spires of Scythia. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you Heading?” At his nod, she continued. “Have you ever been to the arena?”
He shook his head. “I’ve seen many things in my sailing, Miss Starlight. But some things a stallion just isn’t meant to see. I can dine with a griffon, work on the same boat as a griffon, but I can’t enjoy what he enjoys.” He chuckled, looking rueful. “And I suppose their birds wouldn’t care much for what I like, either. I don’t know how I’d make it through the long voyages without a good book, and not a stallion among ‘em could tell you a vowel from a consonant.”
“Really?” Starlight’s eyes widened as she contemplated the absurdity of what that implied. “Even the emperor?”
“Yep,” Heading said. “They’ve got some mighty strange ideas about what mares and stallions ought to do. They’re not like ponies, where everypony does what makes ‘em feel best. Real firm lines, and exacting standards for every bird to follow. About… everything, really.”
This might’ve been a subject of great academic interest to Starlight Glimmer a day before, given her own experience trying to structure the roles in a society. Of course, her own attempt had taken natural pony inclinations to the extreme, not turned completely the other direction.
But she couldn’t be bothered to care about that now. Not after what she’d seen. “The emperor had to kill one of the other clan lords. Bird named Gabriel. In front of a crowd of fifty thousand. Was the most gruesome thing I’ve ever seen.”
Heading nodded, though he didn’t seem to share her distress. “Well, I’m glad somepony finally got the bastard. That rotten sack of feathers has had that coming for a long time. Must’ve been a right disturbing thing to see, though.” He looked up. “He was calling for invasion, I bet you anything.”
“Yeah,” Starlight said, a little taken aback by his reaction. “You’ve heard of him?”
“Well, obviously,” he said, apparently sharing her surprise. “There are only five clan lords, Miss Starlight. And it’s vitally important you know whose territory you’re flying into. Gabriel was the worst of the worst, House Vengeance. If a boat flew in that wasn’t all birds, you can bet the whole crew would be wearing slave collars by next moonrise, and they’d never fly out again. And I heard he did… things… to some of the mares he captured. Not things right for explaining to fancy ladies like yourself. Point is, damn the old bird to Tartarus. If I get the chance, I’ll shake the emperor’s hoof myself.”
“I miss Equestria,” Starlight Glimmer eventually said, her voice low. “Things made sense in Equestria. But what will it be like once we let all these griffons in?”
“I don’t know, Miss Starlight,” Heading said. “That’s a might above what I’m paid to think about. But what do you think Equestria would be like if we don’t? What kind of ponies would we have to be to leave them here to burn and starve and suffocate?”
She had no answer.
Starlight Glimmer didn’t write to Celestia that night.
Starlight Glimmer had watched Gaius pay a terrible price for peace—higher than Celestia would’ve paid. Gabriel’s death apparently worked, at least from what she saw in the city. Starlight Glimmer began her appointed task—supervising the preparations for evacuation to Equestria.
She was under no illusions about the danger she was in at any moment. If the griffons intended a betrayal, she was certainly the first one they would target. Though from what she’d seen of Gaius, it seemed quite hard to believe that he would’ve gone to all the trouble of the duel just to convince her that his nation was obeying Equestria’s terms. The duel remained a topic of conversation in every part of the city she visited for weeks, and it always seemed like different birds.
Equestria had one fear chief among all others: gunpowder. Where pony ships relied on magical weapons, the Accipion empire had found a substitute in chemistry. One that Celestia feared might be turned to invade them from the interior once the griffons arrived.
For the next few weeks, Starlight traveled around the empire aboard one such airship, captained by the emperor’s son and bristling with guns and crew both armed with gunpowder. She visited Accipion ports big and small, selecting ships at random to inspect. At first she was surprised that her random inspections proved they were indeed removing their gunpowder weapons—but over time, she began to expect it. Princess Celestia had said griffons cared about their word, or at least Gaius did. The longer she remained among them, the more convinced of that fact Starlight became.
Accipio was a gigantic place—larger than Equestria by tens. Yet most of it was empty. Long stretches of desolation broken by an occasional plantation or minor city. She wondered as they flew what it might’ve been like to pass through the city during the height of Accipio’s power, when it had been a force to challenge Equestria, when it had swept across the zebra tribes and then the minotaur princedom without slowing.
As she visited the cities of modern Accipio, she did not get the sense that she was some primitive visiting an overwhelming power beyond her understanding. It felt, rather, like she was visiting a pony in a desolate hospice somewhere, dying of an untreatable disease. Everypony knew about the eruption, from the richest griffon adorned with gold all the way down to the meekest young slave. Some thought the whole world would end, some thought the emperor was overreacting and they would all be fine. But all seemed weighed down.
The time flew by. Starlight returned to Scythia, where all griffon ships would be required to pass on their way through to Equestria. She would be the gatekeeper in that regard as well, at least at first. The initial waves of griffon ships heavily laden with supplies for their new settlements would be leaving a full month before the eruption—if the winds were good, they would be able to dump their cargo in Equestria in time to return for refugees. If not, many more birds would die.
It was still a grand sight to stand in the harbor and look out at so many airships, each one larger than anything in Equestria’s navy. Each one so full of food and raw materials that they looked like they could barely stay airborne. Starlight had enlisted every willing pony on the Daughter of Wintergreen, and it had still taken nearly two days to inspect them all.
She stood beside Gaius and his son atop a raised platform near the edge of the docks, looking out on a crowd of thousands of birds. Well, birds and every other kind of creature that lived here. It was nice to be back in the capital, where they didn’t seem to be so weighed down. There was a little more hope to these. “We send the first seeds of our survival to be planted,” Gaius shouted. He was wearing the same strange armor he had fought in during the duel—the armor that made him invisible to Starlight’s magical senses. Though this time the terrible helmet did not cover his face, and he had to bellow out into the crowd.
“Our first scouts have already returned from Equestria—they speak of a land that the ponies have neglected. We will make it bloom, despite the challenges. We will endure this war as we have endured so many others. When the flames have cleared, when the lava has cooled, we will return stronger than ever before to reclaim the land that was once ours, and build an even better Accipio. But until that time comes, we require the labor of every bird, every citizen, and every slave in my hearing. We continue to work to ensure that there will be a place for every one of you. Continue your labor, for all our lives depend on it.”
He raised a wing just slightly, and one of his guards blew into a whistle. The whole line of great airships immediately began to lift off from their moorings. Strange grinding sounds emerged from their unusual engines, and clouds of black smoke began to pour from behind them. Griffons had their own equivalent of the thaumic impeller, though breathing the air near it could nauseate even a sailor accustomed to air travel.
Fortunately for the ceremony, a breeze was blowing away from the dock, carrying the disgusting smoke with it.
Cheers and stomping rang up from all around them, and most of it sounded genuine to Starlight. Gaius was among his most loyal citizens, after all. Those most committed to a peaceful new life in Equestria.
They watched until the zeppelins began to fade into the distance, and only then did the crowd began to disperse.
“Well, Equestrian overseer.” Emperor Gaius turned on her, smiling somewhat smugly. “Did you expect this moment would come? Tell me honestly—when you arrived in Accipio, you thought we would be plotting invasion, didn’t you? You thought we would try to kill you.”
“The… thought did cross my mind,” Starlight said, not looking away. It was the truth, after all. That was what griffons wanted. “But I’m very happy to be wrong. I don’t think Princess Celestia doubted this would happen, though. She always seems to see the best in ponies.” She coughed, looking away awkwardly. “And griffons too, I mean.”
“The real question is whether any birds try to run the blockade,” Velar said from beside her, smiling that infuriating smile of his. Why did he always have to look so damn smug? Starlight turned slightly away from him out of spite. “And whether any of the great clans try to stay behind. We can’t ignore the rumors, Father.”
“We aren’t ignoring them.” Gaius sounded sad, subdued. “But we don’t have the resources to pull them into line. If Vengeance or Vanquish wish to remain behind, we can’t spare the ships to force them. We would only damn more of our own to die for every ship in our navy that did not return.” He looked back to Starlight Glimmer. “With respect, Equestrian, I think the days of your personal inspection of every ship cannot continue. We must increase the number…” He glanced back at his wife. “What did you say, Guinevere?”
“An order of magnitude,” she supplied, not looking up from her pad of notes. She always seemed to have it, no matter the occasion. Always working on something, though she had barely said a dozen words to Starlight in all the time she’d been here. Starlight still didn’t know why.
“Yes, that.” Gaius made a vague gesture with one claw, apparently not comprehending what his wife had just said. “If you insist on scouring every hull for weapons you will not find, many of my birds will die.”
Starlight Glimmer was ready for this. “I am… I understand, Emperor. I’ve already thought about it, actually. I was thinking—instead of an exhaustive search, I think a random examination would be better. Perhaps if I was provided with the list of ships departing on a given day, I could choose only a few to have inspected—though I would not inform anypony of the number, or the name of the ships until that moment, obviously.”
“She continues to insult us,” Guinevere muttered, turning away from them and spreading her wings. “I don’t know why you tolerate it, husband.” She took to the air, flying off in a huff.
“Those terms are agreeable,” Gaius said, nodding to his son. “Velar will see to anything you ask, as usual.”
Great, Starlight thought. Couldn’t be anypony else.
“Delightful,” Velar said. “You’re going to stay bored, I’m afraid. We aren’t hiding anything.”
“You aren’t,” she agreed. “But Equestria can’t be sure about every griffon. We won’t gamble our future any more than you will.”
Velar only shrugged. “Well then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Starlight. Unless you’d rather join me for dinner tonight.”
“No.” She tried to glare him to death. Without magic behind it, it didn’t work.
The airships baring your writ of approval arrived in the newly created Accipion refugee territory. There was a minor dispute over borders, which has since been resolved. My friends have been on the ground helping to coordinate, but so far it looks like you were right. I know I speak for all of Equestria when I tell you how thrilled we are to be wrong about a coming invasion. To be honest, it isn’t a conflict I think we could win.
We had to choose to train soldiers or train more weatherponies and farmers. The former would certainly result in many deaths by starvation, though the latter might result in Equestria’s eventually enslavement.
Celestia suggested I should reiterate the importance of your work in Accipio, though I know you already take it very seriously. If anything like a complete evacuation takes place, the griffons and their slaves will outnumber us by two or three to one. We will already be dealing with their strange magic and ancient artifacts, both of which we cannot confiscate. You are the only defense Equestria has against soldiers armed with weapons we can’t reproduce.
Equestria has chosen to fight against the winter that Equus will soon suffer. I know you can be the one that prevents a new army from migrating here.
We have chosen their new land well—though the farmland is rich, it is poor for minerals and far from large pony settlements. Celestia doesn’t think they have any chance of re-arming with the supplies available to them in the time it will take for Accipio to be inhabitable again.
Use the scrolls the instant anything changes. Princess Luna has a contingency prepared in case a few ships try to run the blockade—something dramatic, but that we won’t be able to repeat. Don’t make her use it.
Regards,
Princess Twilight Sparkle
Starlight Glimmer wasn’t sure if anypony could’ve possibly done the job she had been tasked with. Accipio was an empire in decline, but it was still a larger nation than Equestria, with dominion that stretched across the known world. Its citizens outnumbered ponies, its technology was strange, and its customs were stranger.
The next two months were not without their difficulties—there were at least two different assassination attempts made against Emperor Gaius’s life, and who knew how many others she was not told about. A few times Starlight did find contraband in ships that had traveled from the domain of other clan lords, and was forced to delay the entire queue as the emperor’s own troops searched each ship individually.
A few of those birds tried to kill her. Each of those discovered that Equestria had not sent a helpless agent to enforce the terms of the treaty.
Cargo ships were soon replaced with ships carrying refugees, which were harder to search. Starlight simplified the process by developing a spell to detect gunpowder. The weapons themselves were just wood and metal, and there were too many designs to universalize. But since they all used the same substance in their ammunition…
Starlight did not tell the griffons exactly how her spell worked, though she did teach it to as many of the Daughter of Wintergreen’s unicorn crew as were competent. The process got faster, and word was apparently spreading that attempting to circumvent the searches was impossible. Though whether those rumors were real, or created purely to deceive her, she did not know.
She watched the great city of Scythia empty before her eyes. Fewer and fewer of the fires burned from its high chimneys. More of the huge spots in its docks were left empty, and the streets were no longer clogged with passengers.
Starlight Glimmer sat up abruptly as somepony knocked on her office door. The space all around her was packed with ledgers and other documents, her best guesses at how many birds were coming to Equestria and what they had brought.
“Yes?” Starlight ran her magic through her mane, brushing it straight as best she could. The ship swayed slightly in the breeze, as it always did when it was flying. But Starlight had been in the air so often over the last few months that the airsickness didn’t bother her. “Come in.”
The door opened just a crack, and Sure Heading peeked in. “Forgive me, Starlight. There’s a visitor here to speak with you.”
“A visitor?” She raised an eyebrow. “They’re pushing it, aren’t they? The eruption is tomorrow.” To her knowledge, only those who had refused to evacuate were left in the city. That, and a few of the emperor’s household. His flagship was scheduled to be the last to depart, carrying as many refugees as they could possibly stuff into its holds.
Sure Heading shrugged his wing. “Don’t ask me to explain how the birds think. It’s your favorite bird, by the way. Or… maybe you’re his favorite pony.”
“Oh,” Starlight groaned, rising to her hooves. “Velar?”
“He’s waiting on deck,” Sure Heading said, pushing the door open the rest of the way. “Sounded like he had something urgent to speak to you about.”
Starlight was tempted to teleport straight up—but not knowing who might be on the deck and where they might be standing made that a dangerous proposition at best. Transport collision was a gruesome business, which was part of why teleportation magic wasn’t better known in Equestria. What unicorns didn’t know, they couldn’t use to accidentally kill each other.
Starlight turned to hurry past the first mate, and up the steps of the deck as quickly as she could. She found herself matching the swaying of the Daughter of Wintergreen quite naturally, leaning against the direction with each step so that she wasn’t reduced to a vomiting mess. It had been an unpleasant bit of practice, but at least she had finally found her sky legs.
She stepped out onto the deck, and her eyes immediately found Velar, standing by the railing that looked out on Scythia. He hadn’t turned around, and apparently didn’t see her yet. So Starlight approached, remaining as quiet as she could, hoping for the satisfaction of sneaking up on him.
There was something different about the city, something Starlight hadn’t expected to see. There were birds down there again—many of them, and a few were actually fighting. She could hear the little explosions of gunfire, see the flurry of feathers, hear the sound of things breaking. The city wasn’t that close.
None of the airships waiting in dock were familiar to her—Starlight had seen far more of them now that she could search with just one spell, and she didn’t recognize the black and gold color scheme that was apparently universal to them. The invasion fleet? This is when we’re betrayed.
“Starlight Glimmer,” Velar said, before she had managed to cross half of the distance between them. He hadn’t turned around, hadn’t looked away from the city far below.
How is he so good at this? It was mildly infuriating.
“I’m glad that you could join me. My father has sent me with an urgent request—too urgent to risk a messenger.”
“I thought your father’s flagship was supposed to depart an hour ago?”
“It was, and it did,” Velar said, not looking up from Scythia.
“Then what’s all that?”
“House Vanquish. Taking the abandoned wealth of Scythia all for themselves.” He laughed, though there was no humor in his tone. Only bitterness and regret. “They’re staying behind, Starlight Glimmer. All their talk of evacuation ships was a ruse—they’re planning on inheriting the entire empire for themselves. My father received word by spell that the situation is similar in at least three other cities.”
“That’s…” Starlight shivered, leaning down over the edge to try and get a better look at the numbers. There were just over a dozen airships down there, of the massive variety that Equestria couldn’t equal. Each one of them could hold thousands and thousands of ponies. “That’s insane, Velar. Scythia is within the projected range of pyroclastic emissions. If they aren’t suffocated with ash, the poison gases from underground will surely kill them.”
Velar nodded. “Insane is exactly the word I would use for it, Starlight. That’s clan Vanquish—they’ve always thought themselves invincible. Able to overcome any difficulty. They apparently think that by spreading themselves out across Accipio, that most will survive. That while we’re prisoners in Equestria, they will rise uncontested in the whole of the empire, with all its wealth to themselves.”
Starlight opened her mouth, then closed it again, unable to even voice the horror she felt. There were five great clans, each one representing about a fifth of the population of Accipio. She already knew of plenty of individuals who wanted to stay behind and take their chances—those who lived furthest from the epicenter of the eruption, or who didn’t believe the word of Gaius’s engineers. But a whole clan?
“Is that what you’ve come to tell me?” she eventually asked, her voice low and respectful. As though she had just walked into a funeral.
“I would’ve come anyway, even if the mad birds weren’t… well, I guess I wish them well. They won’t have long to enjoy their spoils.” Velar turned to face her. “My father heard you intended to stay behind and watch the eruption from here. To observe it for… science? Is that the right word?” He didn’t wait for confirmation. “We hear your pony vessel has certain… protections. That it will be able to safely observe, then arrive in Equestria ahead of the last wave of refugee ships. Is this true?”
“Yes,” she said, a little smugness creeping back into her voice. Starlight herself had designed the shield spell the ship would use, based on one used by the Captain of the Guard during an invasion a few years back. Her version was stronger and easier to cast, though it still wasn’t strong enough to get anywhere near the heart of the eruption. Scythia itself was as close as she dared, with the shockwave and the pyroclastic wrath that would be raining down even hundreds of miles away. “Daughter of Wintergreen is prepared. Most ponies back in Equestria are hoping we never live to see another one of these, so it seemed like documenting it from up close was the right thing to do.”
“You sound a little like my mother. She has been lamenting how little we will learn from the eruption for weeks now.” A weak smile returned to Velar’s face. “In any case. I’m here to ask permission for five birds to stay behind and observe from your ship… then to receive transport back with you to the emperor’s flagship.”
“Let me guess,” Starlight replied. “You, your father, the queen, and… some guards?”
He nodded. “Exactly. My mother would like to see the eruption for the same reasons as you. And my father… he feels it’s the emperor’s duty to watch the death of Accipio. Don’t ask me to explain it, I don’t understand him myself.”
There was nothing forcing her to agree. More importantly, it wasn’t even her decision to make, really. The Wintergreen’s captain would be the one to make that decision, ultimately. But she knew she would get whatever she asked for. Will it make things any harder to have a few more birds aboard? Not really.
Starlight didn’t really want to be around Velar any more than she had to—at least, that was what she told herself. “I’ll have to speak to Captain Weathered Sails,” she said. “But I don’t think it should be a problem. So long as none of your birds know you’re here. The Daughter of Wintergreen isn’t really equipped to fight off assassination attempts.”
“I understand.” Velar spread his wings in preparation for takeoff, stalking away from her a few steps. “I’ll assume you can work things out with the captain.” He didn’t wait for her response, just clambering up over the railing into a dive. He vanished with a rush of feathers out into the sky, as brave as any pegasus.
Starlight grunted frustration. “He didn’t even wait for an answer,” she muttered to nopony, before turning off to find the captain. As frustrating as this would be, at least there was only one more day. One more day, and then they would be heading back to Equestria.
That’s when the real war starts. Surviving this was just the opening act.
Daughter of Wintergreen’s deck was packed with ponies, as all fifty of the crew jostled for the best places to watch the eruption. Of course, few of them seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to be watching. A few seemed to think Scythia itself might be about to explode, as though the griffons had built their city directly atop the volcano without noticing.
The quarterdeck where Starlight Glimmer stood was not so busy, since it had been reserved particularly for their illustrious passengers. Captain Sails was here, along with Sure Heading, who was serving as Starlight’s assistant for this mission. Other than the three of them, the others here were all griffons.
Starlight Glimmer was not a scientific pony, but she still felt proud of the camera apparatus that Twilight had entrusted her, and that she had managed to set up in time for the event without any real difficulty. The assembly was fairly large—a mixture of metal and glowing enchanted crystal that drew in a length of silvery tape when it was working. Starlight didn’t know how it worked, somehow it could be used to capture moving images. It’s amazing how much ponies came up with while I was living in Our Town.
She didn’t have much more in the way of sensors—much to Twilight Sparkle’s chagrin. But this event was more a humanitarian mission than a scientific one. The ponies back home would have to make do with what they could learn from this one angle.
The griffon queen had brought her own instrument, and had even taken the very best spot on deck to set it up. How they had flown it all the way here Starlight couldn’t guess—it was four times the size of the Equestrian camera, and constantly belched a smell not unlike their airships. But the purpose seemed to be similar, at least from the large reels that constantly spun and gathered tape. Unlike the Equestrian camera, the birds apparently had enough tape to spare that they could just run it as long as they wanted, not wait for the moment of the eruption itself.
The emperor had his own tools spread in front of him, though they were not on a table. There was a bright red cloth unrolled onto the deck, along with numerous ritual objects. A few of these registered to her magical senses as faintly enchanted, though she could not name the school or the spell that had created them. Gaius had not volunteered why he had brought them or what they were for, and so she hadn’t asked.
Captain Sails had ordered chairs brought for them all, and there was a serving table with wine and the finest refreshments the Daughter of Wintergreen could offer. Nopony had touched them, not even Velar with his appreciation for exotic foods.
“How much longer?” the griffon noble asked her, glancing curiously at the camera as he did so. “Your machine will tell you, yes?”
His mother answered before Starlight could, her voice annoyed. “Any moment, Velar. We only know it will be before sundown. And there is some chance it won’t happen at all.”
“Would that it could be so,” Gaius said. He sat beside the queen, wearing the strange black armor he had fought in all those months ago. It had no reflection in the sunlight, and no imprint on her magic senses. Starlight wouldn’t have been surprised if it didn’t show up on the camera recording, either. “I would lose the throne, certainly. Our family would be the laughing-stock of the entire world. But hundreds of thousands of birds would not be about to die.”
“It is no fault of yours what the mad and the blind do to spend their lives,” the queen said quietly from beside him. “You warned every bird. You passed the strictest laws you could. You even killed Gabriel. Saving four clans in five is not so bad.”
Starlight Glimmer felt something then—something strange, she couldn’t quite place. And the other ponies noticed it—conversation on the lower deck abruptly fell silent. The griffons kept talking, apparently oblivious.
“Shame you didn’t let me duel Santiago as well, Father. Our new Accipio rising in Equestria would have been even better off with two of the worst clan lords gone instead of only one.”
Something passed in front of the Daughter of Wintergreen, moving rapidly and filling the sky with shadow. The royal conversation was suddenly drowned out with the calls of millions of birds. Starlings, she was pretty sure, flying so dense that the deck briefly turned black. Their calls were loud enough to be heard over the idling engine, and a few of them even went sliding over the edges of the shield. It became visible for a few seconds as they struck, its glowing sections appearing only where needed and vanishing just as quickly.
Starlight Glimmer lacked any talent for animals, but even she could hear their terror, their desperation. And she could feel it too. She was trapped up here, they needed to get away! What did it matter if they made recordings of the eruption if they died in it?
Captain Sails was apparently thinking something similar. He rested one hoof on the navigation. It looked for a moment as though he might be about to steer them away—but no. A few moments later and he set down his hoof, and he hurried over to Starlight.
“Are you sure your defenses will be enough?!” he shouted over the flock of birds, which had finally stated to clear from in front of them. Their squeaks and calls still made it difficult to hear anything else, though. “You’re certain the spell will hold?”
“It will hold!” Starlight Glimmer shouted back. “So long as we start moving as soon as we see ash. We could even take a direct hit from a chunk of pyroclastic material, if we’re very unlucky! Just make sure nobody flies out of the shield, because once they do, they won’t be able to get back!”
“The birds waited until now?” Velar’s voice, coming from behind her again. Between her and her instruments, which was just a tad frustrating. “Why did they pick now?”
“They can feel it,” Starlight said, not having to yell as the birdsong quieted around them. There were other distant flocks further away from the ship, and the blur of more activity as well. On the ground, other animals were running away. She could see their small shapes moving away from the city—rats, dogs, a few ponies. They didn’t stand a chance. “Can’t you?”
“I feel… regret,” Velar said. “That we won’t be able to save everyone. Is that what the birds are feeling?”
“No,” Starlight sighed, but she didn’t know how else to explain. She no longer had to.
There was a distant flash of light from the port side of the ship, exactly where she had been aiming. Velar’s bulk was between her and the camera, but Sure Heading was already standing beside it. Her simple instructions had just been to switch the thing on “as soon as anything happened.” That would have to do.
The shield on the port side of the ship came abruptly to life, glowing brilliantly blue as the sound of roaring air rolled over them like a wave. All around them, thousands of birds were ripped to pieces, dropping to the ground like rain. Starlight Glimmer didn’t even have time for horror as the eruption itself began. The explosion of air was replaced with a deeper rumble, that shook her right to the chest even though the interior of the ship was protected.
The flash of light was gone, though it had been replaced with a distant pillar of orange light, rising higher and higher. It was enormously far away, yet it still seemed as though it were reaching out from the atmosphere, towering higher than any cloud city. A single explosion lengthened until it sounded as though the planet itself was a lion, roaring in rage at those who had dared to build their civilization on its back.
A visible wave passed through the ground far below them a second later, carrying with it the terrible crash of buildings to mingle into so many other awful noises. Starlight Glimmer imagined she could hear the screams of the birds who had stayed behind to loot it, though she was fairly certain their voices wouldn’t be loud enough to hear over so many other sounds.
The sky in front of them was bright orange now, with distant blackness gathering behind. She could see a few streaks moving through the sky—by the calculations of Equestria’s engineers, this eruption would send at least a hundred cubic miles of material into the sky. What would not emerge as diffuse ash to destroy the climate would instead be raining down for hundreds of miles.
She probably couldn’t hear the screams, but she did hear the emperor’s voice, quiet and solemn. He had his head bowed now in front of a bowl, where a few drops of blood seemed to be boiling away of their own accord. From the state of his foreleg, that was apparently their source. And the reason for the knife.
But she couldn’t understand the language he spoke. Whatever it was sounded almost like music, and was solemn enough that all the other birds, even the guards, lowered their heads in respect.
Velar glanced up briefly at her from the side, and that was all the invitation she needed to ask what she was thinking. And besides, it wasn’t as though the emperor would hear her over the terrible noise. “What is your father doing?”
Her guess was apparently correct—Velar didn’t sound angry as he responded. “The emperor is also our high priest. It’s a prayer for the dead. To guide the passing to rebirth and greater strength in their next life. A lesser priest could handle something smaller—a soldier on the battlefield, or a sinking ship. But the death of the world requires someone with more authority.”
Every time Starlight thought she understood the birds, they did something else that confused her. But academic questions were a little beyond her concern right now. The distant orange far away was being gradually subsumed by rapidly approaching clouds, clouds so thick that they swallowed the land and everything in it. The ash and the debris were not here yet, but they would be soon.
It seemed a shame to interrupt the prayer, however much Starlight was a materialist. “Captain, now would be a good time to leave. I would rather not put our shield to more of a test than necessary.”
Weatherd Sails nodded once, and immediately took the helm. Any semblance of respect and quiet he might’ve been showing for the birds’ strange ritual faded. The thaumic impeller engine did not make any noise as it activated, but it did charge the whole ship with a sense of energy, like lightning about to strike. The deck under their hooves began to shake, and the Daughter of Wintergreen put its aft to the end of the world.
Starlight Glimmer made her way to the camera, gently pivoting it on the tripod so that it faced behind them. There were no sails to get in the way, though plenty of the connections to the gasbag high above would block the picture. That was the last of their worries, just now.
At least we didn’t have to be close enough to see the lava swallowing everything. There were a few cities that were. Thinking about that made her wish she believed in a god after all, so that she could have some hope those stubborn birds might have another shot.
The cloud was catching up to them. The speed the ash must have been going boggled the mind—yet still it came, darkening the sky to a greater and greater degree. A huge fragment of stone smashed into the side of the shield, sending them swerving to the right. The Daughter of Wintergreen shook so hard that the camera nearly fell over—the griffon’s instrument actually did fall over, smashing to the deck and exploding into a mess of uneven parts.
Starlight was quicker on the magic with her own, and she managed to hold it steady for a little while longer. Until the cloud of ash swallowed the ship completely, leaving them in almost total darkness.
“So dies Accipio,” said the emperor’s voice, low and solemn in the gloom. “May its memory survive in our minds long enough to see it reborn one day.”
Starlight knew it had not died—not yet. Those living in the outermost cities would not be exploded, or suffocated with poison gas. They might have as much as a foot of ash rained on them though, killing everything that grew, killing all who didn’t have masks or magic to protect their lungs. And those that lived through that would get the hunger and disease.
Would anything of clan Vanquish survive the catastrophe? She didn’t think so. And they’re not the ones I should be worried about. Equestria is the one that has to endure now. Through the cold, through the ash, and with a predator riding our back.
Velar sat alone as near the prow of the pony ship as he could, staring off into the ocean. They were up too high to see much down there but black water, and anyway his amazing vision turned to washed out confusion as soon as the sun went down. But just now, that was an advantage.
Unfortunately for him, the one thing he wanted to see least was still plainly before his eyes at every moment. The strange pony vessel with its impressive magic shield could not keep out the ash.
It showered on everything, a fine mist that smelled of sulfur and fire from the bowels of the planet. It rained down in all directions, as far as the ship could go. The pony captain had tried outrunning it, tried flying above it, but both were apparently impossible. This rain would make it most of the way across the ocean, or so his mother’s engineers speculated. And once into the upper atmosphere, it would reflect enough sunlight to drop temperatures everywhere.
It was hard for Velar to think of the abstract effects the eruption might already be having on global ecology when the physical effects were so obvious. How many millions of his kind would die in the next few days? Velar was one of the lucky birds—his friends had largely been from house Virtue, and so they were among the first to flee. They would have the best chance of having a good life in Equestria, they would have packed away most of their wealth.
Those who had waited until the end—either because of disbelief, or poverty, or because their clan lord was blind and stupid—they would have the worst chance. The ponies had already made it quite clear they would be stretched to breaking just to provide for their own. And if we start starving, how long until birds decide to take from their pony neighbors? How long until there’s a war?
Velar was not the high priest of Union, he did not have the weight of Accipio on his shoulders. Yet for a few moments, it felt as though he had been granted a terrible vision. Griffons provoking the ponies to war, who would descend on his unarmed, hungry colleagues with thousands of magical ships like the Daughter of Wintergreen, impervious to cannons and faster than the wind. They would drive his birds into the sea for no greater crime than wanting to survive. If any birds lived, they would be the vultures back in his homeland, picking the bones of Accipio clean.
There was a faint flicker of light in the air behind him, and then someone landed on the deck. Velar’s claw went instantly for the dagger on his belt, though he didn’t draw it. It was best to be prepared, even though he expected only one of his family’s own guards to be that quiet. Anthony, perhaps.
He turned, and his eyes widened slightly at the one standing behind him. Not Anthony at all, but the Equestrian ambassador. How in Union’s name had she been so quiet?
Velar lowered his claw—daggers were not useful weapons against unicorns, anyway. “You’re up late,” the ambassador said. “Captain Sails gave up his stateroom for your family, and you’re not using it?”
Velar shook his head. “I can’t imagine my father can sleep much either. He just doesn’t want you ponies to see his weakness.”
Starlight Glimmer laughed. Like all the laughter Velar had heard in a long time, it was somewhat tainted with bitterness. “But you just told me.”
Velar didn’t laugh, didn’t say anything. He didn’t have the energy for a verbal joust with the pony. He couldn’t even smell her perfume over the stink of fire and sulfur. A shame, really. Those flowery smells had grown on him over the last few months.
To his surprise, the pony didn’t press this time. Just sat down on the deck beside him, looking out over the ocean as he was doing. Yet she was still a pony—just because she didn’t say something sharp didn’t mean she could stay quiet completely. “I came up here for some fresh air,” she said. “Thought maybe since it was at the front, we would have fresh air coming from Equestria. Thought maybe I’d be able to see the stars, too.”
Velar looked up. The sky was an uneven haze, with the moon cast to an angry brown. It was like the whole planet had been infected, and now the wound was going pestilent. “Do you think it will be much better once we get to your homeland?”
“A little,” Starlight said. “At least we’ll be out past the ash. Or… most of it. I’ve been staying in touch with a geologist friend of mine, back home. She thinks we’ll be laying down tuft in soil all over the globe. That’s a kind of rock, uh… nevermind.” She looked away. “I don’t know exactly what they’re doing, since I’ve been so involved with your people. If I were in charge, I would have weather teams all over the country moving as much wind as they could out towards Accipio. Try and stop as much of the ash as we can. I’ve heard rumors that some parts of the country might skip winter to get in a few more harvests, but I don’t know if that’s true.”
This time it was Velar’s turn to laugh. “I thought the temperature was going down because of the ash. Won’t that make winter longer and harsher? It won’t skip it.”
“Oh, right. You don’t control your seasons in Accipio, do you?” Starlight shrugged. “Probably not worth explaining right now. Just that ponies have been thinking about this for a long time. I’m sure they got the smartest ponies in Equestria planning it all. I know they were organizing teams all over the country a long time before I came to Accipio. Mostly training new farmers, clearing more land for fields… it was mostly earth ponies and pegasi they were recruiting, but I live in a town of mostly earth ponies, and everyone there is talking about it. Friendship gardens, they were calling them.”
Her voice changed a little, and Velar realized she was actually singing. “Plant a tree, or some beans, invite a friend to…” She trailed off. “Sorry.”
Velar laughed again, though there wasn’t even a trace of humor left in his voice. “And that’s why Accipio barely survives the same threats that Equestria weathers without trouble. We knew the gates of Tartarus were opening up beneath us, and what did we do? Killed each other. A fifth of the great clans didn’t even believe their females because they didn’t like what they were being told. Plenty more birds loaded their ships down with useless trinkets instead of seeds and food.” He shook his head. “Yet there you are on the other end of the world, safe from the worst of the eruption, and you’re more unified than we ever were.”
He glared sidelong at the pony, daring her to object. To say anything, really. But Starlight didn’t say anything. The awkward silence stretched longer and longer between them, broken only with the steady rumble of the engine under their claws.
“My father always says that the best way to bring birds together is with an enemy. Hopefully the planet trying to kill us is enough. Otherwise, I’m afraid for both our nations.”
“Me too,” the pony whispered. “For what it’s worth, I think you did a pretty good job. Your father, Gaius… he seems like the best emperor Accipio could’ve had. The ones who came before him probably would’ve invaded us. Even if you won, without all the weather and earth magic to keep the nation running, you still would’ve starved.”
“Yeah,” Velar said. “Thanks.” He felt the pony touch against him, for only a second. But by the time he’d turned to look, she was gone.
They rendezvoused with Valor’s flagship, Impervious Triumph, early the next morning. Velar had hardly moved from his spot on the deck, so that his uniform jacket was stained with ash and his throat was practically rubbed raw from breathing it all. He found it hard to care—about anything, really.
He watched the awe on the ponies’ faces as they approached the airship to dock—a rigid-framed zeppelin design so large it could’ve fit several capital palaces inside it and still had plenty of room to spare. So large there wasn’t a dock in the world large enough to park it, and its insides had its own clouds. So large it had its own docks, which the Daughter of Wintergreen moored to unload them. His later self might curse the missed opportunity to gloat over Starlight Glimmer, but at the moment he just shambled across the deck and climbed aboard.
He didn’t even resent his honor-guard, which flocked around him the instant he was back aboard the Triumph and surrounded him as though they expected an assault within minutes.
His father went through another ceremony, thanking the ponies for their hospitality and formally requesting the escort of the Daughter of Wintergreen all the way to the griffon refugee territories. The pony captain promised it, and their miniscule little ship cast off from the deck. As Velar watched it go, he found it hard to believe something so fragile and primitive-looking could have survived the wrath of the volcano.
“We survived the first engagement,” his father said, once they had made their way to the bridge. The interior section was located at the front of the zeppelin, outside a massive glass dome that allowed them to see everything before them. Yet on the inside, it was mostly bare struts and simple walkways, even in here. Every pound was precious on a craft like this, there was no room for ornamentation.
The bridge had a single projection surface, onto which some bird or another had created an accurate model of the new griffon territory. It was less than a tenth the size of Accipo’s Central Province, yet somehow it would have to be their whole world for a decade. I guess it’s a good thing so many of us are dead. Or else we’d never fit.
“Now the real war begins,” Guinevere added, hunching down over the projector. There were a few black marks on it, the locations of new settlements. All of them were along the single river running through the territory. The rest was arid wilderness, unsuitable for anything but hunting. Most males Velar knew could survive on hunting alone, though the practice seemed enormously backwards to him. Hunting was something a bird did for sport, not for survival.
“There will be three cities along the river,” Gaius continued. “One for each of the clans. Their plantations and farms will have to expand from there. These mountains here would make for a better capital if we had to stay, but… until we could construct an aqueduct, we could never live there in any numbers. Our own territory is the largest, but the least productive as you can see. I had to give the other clan lords the right to choose their territory first in order to get them to agree to sign the treaty.”
“Even Valor?” Velar asked.
Gaius nodded. “Unfortunately. It may be hard to grow even a fraction of what we need, and that would’ve been before the climate changed.”
Velar glanced down at the map again. His own family’s city was the furthest south of all, far enough that the bottom half of their land was cut off with more water. A strange place to try and build a permanent home. “Maybe the cooling planet will make the desert livable.”
Guinevere laughed. “By the time it does, I don’t think there will be any birds left behind to care. We’ll either be back in Accipio, or… we will have taken Equestria for ourselves. Have you decided which, noble husband? I know Vengeance and Victory have been whispering that was your plan all along… that you planned on arming us after we arrived in Equestria. While the ponies are content that we have put their collars around our necks.”
Gaius didn’t answer for a long time. Eventually he looked to Velar, then back down at the map. “Well, son? What do you think? You have spent more time with their ambassador than anyone. You’ve seen the way they think. Is an uprising the way to prosperity?”
He could still see Starlight’s face under the moonlight and falling ash. It had only been hours, really. “Even if we won… we need Equestrian magic to keep the food growing. If we force them to fight a war, we both starve.”
Gaius nodded, satisfaction on his face. “And you said his education counted for nothing, Guinevere.” He didn’t wait for an answer from her. “We must make some kind of home for ourselves there. War has always been our way.”
Guinevere frowned slightly down at the map. “Let’s see if we can make ourselves a new way.”
Velar remembered the first time he had ever visited the great city of Scythia. After a childhood raised on warships and army camps, he was initially unprepared for the stone majesty of such a city. He had taken months of time with his mother guiding him through the streets before he finally came to accept that strange world of stone nests and ample resources for himself.
New Scythia was to be the equivalent of that ancient homeland in the strange territory of Equestria. Without the thousands of years of history, without the blood in the stones and the ashes of his fathers entombed there.
His father would have said something noble if he had expressed such thoughts. Probably the emperor would’ve reminded him that their mere presence here was evidence of their grit and resolve.
Velar could still see the ashy snow falling when he closed his eyes. He had scrubbed himself raw in the bath, but the grit of the ash never went away. How much of that was made from the bodies of birds?
None, he knew on a rational level. Even so, his soul didn’t believe it.
Scythia had been built in the highest peaks, with stone and supplies brought to the city using an ingenious system of motorized lifts. New Scythia was flat, without so much as a hill anywhere near it for hundreds of miles. There was a river—a single, murky river, which was the future city’s entire reason for being here in the first place.
Acheron was a wide, slow-moving river, brown and turbid. But it was deep, and fed by diverse sources along its route. It was the best they had.
This strange new Scythia would not be a natural thing, to grow out in curves and spirals. Its unpaved streets were arrayed along a plain grid, with main thoroughfares crossing the entire length at increasingly specific areas.
Velar could take a little solace as he walked down those streets—there was activity. Though the feeling was subdued and most birds looked uncomfortable in the scorching heat, he received salutes and raised fists from birds everywhere he passed.
This was not like the capital, not yet. At this stage, each of the surviving houses would be focused on the creation of their own little pocket of civilization. They would not be sending their lords and diplomats here for at least a month to come. Not until there was someplace to send them.
Along the street was activity more akin to a military camp than anything in civilian lands. Birds and citizens in uniforms worked according to an obvious plan, erecting tents in neat rows, digging latrine ditches, setting up camp areas. The entire city was being erected as a military fortification first, with pickets and barriers along the exterior.
“What do you think of all this, Zoya?” he asked, turning to the zebra who had been keeping pace with him the entire time. In theory he was her escort through the city, since it was not yet consecrated and that meant a house slave was not fit to be outside the home. In practice the two of them mostly kept to themselves. Velar would’ve happily gone another way to inspect something that interested Zoya, if she asked. “Can we turn this desert into somewhere livable?”
There were many, many plain wooden crates of supplies simply left sitting exposed in their places along the grid—with no regard to whether any bird or slave might want to steal what they contained.
The zebra took a long time to answer. She reached up, running one hoof along the gold chain around her neck. “It is not a good place, lord Velar. If it were, the ponies would not have left it empty. They have given Accipio the very worst of their empire. I do not know if it will be enough for their betters to survive. There is much food in provision, but we will need much to plant crops. If they do not grow well, in the soil we’ve been given… what then?”
Then war, Velar thought, though he didn’t say so out loud. There were plenty of other birds around—all gave them their privacy in the center of the road, though that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be unfriendly ears listening all the time. Velar had long since learned to assume there was always a spy nearby when he was outside the palace. “They won’t fail. We’ll get ponies involved with our crop—this land is theirs, so their magic will work well to keep us fed.”
The requests were already made, so there was no keeping it secret. Already house Vengeance was whispering that Gaius had again lost his mind. Or perhaps, he had only won the duel with a cheap trick, and had been insane this whole time.
The ashes of Accipio aren’t even cool, and already they’re forgetting we survived because of him.
“Perhaps,” Zoya said. “I know what their ponies say they do. Frankly my lord, I don’t believe much of it. We were powerful before, poised for invasion. Naturally they needed to intimidate us then convince us not to bring weapons to a war we could surely win. But now that we are here… we’ll see many myths disproven. Perhaps that old story about the sun rising here at the command of Celestia herself. Perhaps the claims that pegasi can control the weather, or that crops can only grow well when earth ponies bless them. It all seems like too much magic without the price. That is not the art I learned.”
Velar had seen more of pony magic than most, though not Zoya. “I hope you’re wrong. I’m the one who requested we hire ponies to help here. If they’re less than they claim to be, I will be the one made a fool of before the other clans.”
“Better you than your father,” Zoya said, grinning slightly at him. Zoya was smaller than he was, and well over twice his age. Yet she was braver than any other slave his family owned. She was probably the most powerful slave in the whole kingdom.
“I suppose so,” Velar said. “But if I’m right, I’ll want an apology.”
“Happily,” she laughed. “It’s what happens if I’m right that I fear. In all my years of study, Lord Velar, I have learned that there is never a feast offered without a price asked in return. If that price isn’t paid when you enter, it will still be asked due. In my experience, it is those hosts who speak the least of what they demand who are the most dangerous.”
Velar thought about that a moment, then turned away. He was heading for the barracks, one of the few structures that had been completed by the small expeditionary force they had sent some time ago.
His house guard followed as they always did, though he wasn’t so sure how much he needed them in his own city. Their armaments had changed—there was not a firearm between them. The treaty did not have exceptions.
So they wore swords instead, to go with cloth armor that would stop a knife but be unable to do a thing to protect them if an assassin brought a gun.
Velar’s own uniform was made of the same spun metal fabric—the strongest field weave they had. They were at war now, and would be dressing accordingly until they returned to their homeland.
They said it might take decades. I might be ruling by then.
Velar couldn’t distract himself with fears over a responsibility he didn’t even have yet. Accipio would have to survive to that day.
Either that, or we conquer Equestria while we’re here. Then we never have to go back. It wouldn’t be the first time an emperor had turned an apparent disadvantage to their favor.
Velar saw the barracks near the center of the city. It was not a tall building, not compared to some of what had stood in Scythia. Most of this building was underground, burrows reinforced with the same red-brown rock that had built the upper floors.
The barracks was rectangular and unadorned, but that didn’t matter. It looked strong, defensible. It had been built with many openings for birds to come and go from the roof, many places they could shoot without subjecting themselves to danger outside. This barracks was a fortress, and it was so close to the river that he would be very surprised if pipes weren’t already connecting it somewhere underground.
His family’s large slave crew was hard at work beside it, preparing massive trays of adobe bricks in the sun. Common homes could not be built from stone, not when there were so many refugees who needed places to live. But adobe? Straw, mud, and clay were here in abundance.
Velar ignored them of course, striding straight up to the stone building. He returned several salutes from soldiers wearing uniforms just like his, nodding for someone to wait outside with Zoya. Though eminently respected, it would still not be proper for him to enter a building like this with anyone but a female relative, or a spouse.
He found field commander Gerald pacing back and forth beside a tiny model of the city—or rather, of what the city might look like twenty years from now. Surrounded by high walls, with different districts raised on wooden construction to stand above each other. An impressive, artificial aerie.
Probably just a dream. It would take a great deal of lumber to make that kind of dream come true, and they needed what few trees they had for more important purposes.
“Lord Velar.” Combat Lord Gerald straightened as he entered, saluting. “I didn’t expect you here so soon. Shouldn’t you be settling into the palace?”
He returned the salute. He had learned through much practice never to look at Gerald’s missing eye, or the scars all down one of his wings. It was impressive the wrinkly old bird could even fly.
“The palace won’t be fit to live in for weeks yet,” Velar said, trying not to sound unappreciative. “It’s still bare stone floors and sweltering hot rooms. My family will be rooming aboard the flagship for another few weeks at least.”
“Oh,” Gerald said, relaxing a little. Once the bare minimum of respect and pleasantries were out of the way, his formal facade began to decay. “Probably for the best m’lord, much as it will cut the egos of some of our craftsmen. Not safe in the city yet. Your father has too many enemies to sleep somewhere without strong walls.”
“More than you know,” Velar muttered, turning away from the bird, and approaching the model. “This is the master plan, then? My mother’s work is always so… complicated.”
“At least she didn’t forget to give us an arena.” Gerald followed him to the model, pointing out the specific place with one claw. “I have every idle slave digging the foundation already. Will be twice the size of Scythia’s, five years from now. Might even be able to recreate a few old sea battles.”
Velar grinned at the prospect. Themed duels were some of the most interesting—he’d seen plenty that used clouds, or other simple obstructions. But there were only stories of ancient birds managing to turn arenas into little lakes. No modern engineer could recreate that achievement. Or our females just have less spirit than they did.
“I’m here on my father’s behalf,” Velar said, a little more slowly. “He has an urgent change to the priorities, one he hopes you can accommodate into the labor schedule as soon as possible.”
“One my wife can accommodate, you mean,” Gerald said, though he was still grinning good-naturedly. “I don’t keep the schedule, Lord Velar. I just keep every working bird to theirs.”
“Right.” He didn’t wait for confirmation. “We plan on hosting the equestrian princesses here in one month’s time. All four of them.” He tapped on the edge of the palace model with one claw. “There needs to be somewhere for them to visit, understand? Their coming to New Scythia instead of one of the other infant cities will ensure my father’s position is unopposed. So long as other nations continue to recognize us as Accipio’s leaders, then the clan lords must as well.”
Gerald nodded, though his expression was dark. “I will… speak to my wife immediately. I hope you understand that laborers do not come from nowhere. Focusing on one project means we must neglect others.”
Velar nodded towards the arena. “We can do without that for a little longer, I think. The slaves can have their contest out in the wilderness, if we have to. We can erect benches… whatever. Just so long as the Equestrians see how quickly we recover, how implacable we are. We must discourage any intention to take advantage of us before it arises.”
Velar stared down the length of the palace storeroom, at the hundreds of rows of identical barrels and boxes. They were each made of the same rough wood, though some were very old and dented from many years of repeated use.
His family’s diamond dog slaves were proving to be the most useful laborers they owned. Burrows were claustrophobic and uncomfortable for birds, but they also stayed the same temperature no matter how harsh the sun and were easier to defend than houses made of mud bricks.
He walked down the aisle, glancing occasionally at the markings on the pad of paper their quartermaster showed him. He couldn’t read of course, except for numbers.
Velar glanced in a few of the barrels as they passed, examining a few pieces of salted pork or chicken. Plenty more held even more boring food—simple grains made more for feeding their livestock than birds. They could eat those kinds of things, though a diet with too much would make a bird feel bloated and uncomfortable.
“Something troubles you, Lord Velar?” asked the quartermaster, tapping one claw on the stone floor as she spoke. “Are my tallies in error?” She sounded doubtful as she said it—how would he even recognize a detail like that?
Velar shook his head. “It’s not that. Just thinking of all the birds on the streets above. This storeroom doesn’t look like it can feed New Scythia until we return home.”
“Until…” Giselle, the inventory bird, suppressed a laugh. “Last I checked, we were thinking a decade was the shortest prediction for the time we can return to Accipio. Lord Velar, this isn’t even enough for one year. Considering how much of it has to be planted… you’re seeing six months here. New Scythia will need to become self-sufficient before next year, or else we’ll all starve.”
“That’s… fantastic,” he said, passing the pad of paper back to her. “Great work, Giselle. My father says to stretch this as long as you can. As of now, we’re putting anyone who isn’t on full duty onto half rations. Pass the word to the combat lords accordingly.”
He could hear her claws clattering on the stone as she hurried to keep up with him. “Aye, milord. You know they won’t like that.”
“I know no one will like that,” Velar said. “But the sooner we start conserving, the longer our food will go. Those on full duty can keep full rations. Maybe that will motivate more birds to work.”
“If there was work for them to do,” Giselle muttered. Velar didn’t look back. Didn’t even glance over his shoulder as he left her behind.
His guards were waiting at the door with several large candles to light their way in the gloom, and he followed them up from the palace basement to ground level. Up here there were many more soldiers, all still armed and dressed for campaign.
Compared to the place in Accipio, this place looked like hurried children had built it. It was built to the same plan as the old one, with five massive pillars holding up a single concrete dome that formed the central access for the palace. Living quarters for birds and other honored citizens in upper floors. Except that instead of elegant mosaics set with precious stones, the floors were plain stone and unadorned. There were no glowing crystal chandeliers, but open skylights instead, and candles to light when it got dark.
It was like watching a wartime camp trying to transform itself into a city, and not doing a terribly good job. Yet the palace was a place of luxury and sophistication compared to the city outside. Velar knew he didn’t have much time—but he made his way forward anyway, past the bright red rug meant to indicate to the visiting ponies which way to go, past the rows and rows of guard dressed in the exact same clothes. Past the rushing servants and slaves.
The palace didn’t have doors yet, only a massive doorway that would one day be filled in with something strong and defensible.
Accipio’s palace had been on the highest peak, meaning he could step out here and look at the entire city. Now, he would have to fly.
But he didn’t fly. Velar just looked, taking in the identical, squat frames of mud bricks rising slowly taller by the day. As in Scythia, those families who were most important or most loyal had their residences closest to the palace. There was much empty space near their small homes—places where their manors and little gardens would one day go. But for now, it was hard to tell the home of the rich apart from the home of the average citizen.
This was the sight the pony princesses would first see of Accipio in their lands. He hoped it would be enough to impress them, because it was all they could manage.
House Victory’s growing city of Conquest was supposedly much more impressive already—they were located in a forest, with tons of lumber they could use to build their homes. Virtue had not had the advantage of that handicap.
“Hard to believe that the pony rulers will be coming here,” said Anthony, the head of Velar’s personal guard. He followed Velar’s glance with his own, expression dark in the gloom of early evening. A row of massive braziers burned along the palace steps, leading any bird or citizen who had the right to an audience with the emperor. In practice they were just trying to show off for the ponies.
“Not really,” Velar said. “They were bound to get involved as soon as we were here. We’re living on their land.”
“Until we take it,” Anthony said, shrugging one wing. “It’s early now—we don’t have cannons, or fortresses, but we will. Might not be so accepting of their rules once we can defend ourselves.”
“You think that’s what my father has been planning all this time?” Velar hoped his tone wouldn’t reveal what he was thinking, though he could never quite be sure. Concealing one’s emotions was more something for females to worry about.
Anthony frowned at nothing in particular. “I think your father is wise enough to change his direction if the need arises. If it seems our crops might fail, for instance. If we can fish no more from the river, if all our hunting fails…”
“I hope we don’t have to,” Velar muttered. “Things look good here. We knew what we were preparing for.”
“Yeah,” Anthony answered, though he didn’t sound completely confident. “Not sure how prepared they were in Kios, though. Word is the forest nearby is already giving them far less in hunting than they were expecting. They’re already shipping in food and winter isn’t even here yet.”
Velar’s eyes went up. “Anthony? I’m surprised you’d be keeping so abreast of current events.”
Anthony shrugged. “Soldiers talk, sir. Even enemy soldiers. We realize the chances of a war with Vengeance are slim right now. Wouldn’t be if we were still in Accipio, but… birds know who their real enemies are.”
Velar pointed up at the sky, where the moon was just beginning to rise. “Yes, that. The planet is our enemy right now. It killed millions of birds. More than have ever died in every war.”
“If you say so, sir.”
Starlight Glimmer was no longer a stranger to griffon cities. Yet as she walked the perimeter of New Scythia’s palace, she found herself wondering if she had ever really known these birds.
They were more adaptable than she had given them credit for. She had expected huddled, starving masses, cowering from the sun in tents. That was how they would’ve reacted in Griffonstone. It was strange to be reminded just how broken a people the Griffonstone birds really were.
If these birds were like them, they probably would’ve just rolled over and let the volcano erupt on them. Some dark, buried part of Starlight wondered if that wouldn’t be better for everyone if they had.
But there was no such submission to nature here. She saw fervent activity everywhere. New Scythia was no metropolis, not yet, but it showed the signs of a healthy city in the making. It was coming to life even faster than Manehattan had a generation ago. What choice do they have?
“Excuse me,” said a familiar voice from behind her. It was one Starlight hadn’t heard for months now, one she had secretly missed. Not that she would have told him that. “Got a moment, Starlight?”
She turned slowly, glaring at the bird she knew would be there.
Velar wore one of the formal uniforms she had seen on him at only a handful of occasions, trimmed with gold. His feathers were straightened, as though recently preened. Like so many of the other birds she had seen, Velar was now bowed down with the crushing weight of the world. There was a gray feather or two on his wings she didn’t remember, though.
“I’m surprised you aren’t in the meeting,” she said, before she could stop herself. “Aren’t you an heir to Clan Virtue?”
He nodded darkly. “I told you, we don’t have all those positions ponies have. While my father lives, I am only his son. A captain in Virtue’s army, but I earned that position…” He trailed off, sitting down beside her on the palace steps.
Without realizing it, Starlight sat down too. “If it means anything, I wish they had let me in too. But there are already enough princesses.”
“You want to be one of them?” Velar asked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think it works like that.”
Starlight winced. “No, no, sorry. Misspoke.” She shook her head vigorously. “Immortality is a nice perk, but being a princess really doesn’t pay enough. Having half the world want to kill you is too big an ask. Not to mention having to run the natural cycles and stuff. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be Celestia… know that if I don’t get up in the morning, the sun won’t either. How many ponies would that kill, I wonder…”
“Do you really believe all that, or are you just saying it because you have to?” Velar raised one hoof, gesturing to his personal guard. They all retreated, about a dozen paces away. As far as they could reasonably expect.
Starlight felt a slight twinge of jealousy at that. Their delegation had come with two airships and four chariots, but not one of all those royal guards was for her. She was just another delegate here, not even important enough to be invited to the meeting.
Oh sure, she had been at every planning session for today. She would have to be ready to speak to the princesses during the recesses. She was the unofficial expert on Accipio and its culture.
But they hadn’t given her any guards.
“It’s not really something you believe or not,” she said. “I mean… ponies can come and see it in Canterlot any time they want. I could take you to see…” She trailed off, ears flattening as she looked away. “I mean—”
“I accept,” he interrupted. “I’d love to see your capital, Starlight Glimmer. You spent months living in my home, but I never saw yours. I’m sure it must be quite the city.”
Starlight spluttered for a few seconds, struggling to come up with a polite-sounding way to take back what she had just said. Had she just invited the heir apparent to Accipio on an official tour of Canterlot, without Celestia’s permission? I guess I could just tell her it was a date. “It is,” she said. “But surely, it wouldn’t have to be soon. New Scythia looks more impressive than I could have predicted, but there must be much for you to do.”
The griffon’s eyes darkened a little, and he nodded slowly. “Unfortunately. We fight for thousands of years to create an empire stable enough to run itself, and factors completely out of our control had to fly in and take that all away.” He rose to his hooves, turning away from her. “I hope your princesses are in there sharing good news with my father. The predictions I’ve seen… aren’t good.”
Starlight looked away again. She wasn’t actually allowed to say any of what they had come to offer. “It looks like you’re doing great down here. Do you really need those weather ponies?”
“Yes,” he said, without a shred of guile. “It’s not that our crops our failing. So far as I know, they’ve just been planted. But we need desperately for them to succeed. We can’t afford to gamble this year, and count on buying from other nations. Everyone will be struggling. There will be many empty nests and desolate aeries.”
“Should you be telling me any of this?”
Velar shrugged. “Who cares? The truth won’t suddenly change because I kept it from you. New Scythia has things worse than any of the new cities. We are the furthest from the land we knew. Even making zebras and minotaurs all over the empire into farmers might not be enough.”
“If your father is as honest with the princesses as you are with me, I’m sure they’ll approve your request,” Starlight said. Then she took a step closer, lowering her voice. “You don’t know how much easier this would be if you would just give up the slavery thing. You don’t want to see what the newspapers have started printing about you.”
“Let me guess,” Velar began. “Some pony got lost in a forest or something near one of the new cities, and they’re printing that we kidnapped and enslaved them.”
Starlight had seen several such stories, though in all cases further investigation had proven they were false. But as it turned out, most readers were far more likely to notice the frontpage story than the page sixteen retraction a few days later. “That, and… well…” She met his eyes, looking up into that bright gold. He was so confident.
Starlight Glimmer remembered the burden of leading ponies before. She remembered what it was like to have to make their decisions for them. To do for them what they couldn’t do for themselves. “You have so many slaves. Zebras and minotaurs and everything else are citizens in Equestria. There are lots of unhappy people up there.”
Velar laughed. “You’re joking, right? Equestrians are making a stink out of our social castes? Who are they to talk?”
“Oh, you don’t call them that,” Velar said, raising his voice a little. “You’re so good at the act. But when it comes right down to it, don’t the pegasus ponies end up a lot like citizens in Equestria? They sit on their clouds, with the easiest jobs making weather and things… then there are the free people, you unicorns. You’re the scholars, priests, skilled laborers. Then the worst jobs… farming, ditch digging, drawing water… that’s for the earth ponies. Your slaves. It’s basically the same system, isn’t it? You’ve just found a more… bureaucratically advanced way to manage them. Instead of being formally owned, your slaves are trapped by their living expenses and their cutie marks. I don’t see what makes your way any better than ours.”
“You really think…” Starlight opened and closed her mouth several times, struggling to find words. Velar’s argument was so patently absurd to her, she almost didn’t even know where to begin. So instead of looking for all the problems, she tried to find any way he might be right. What would a predatory bird see and look at as proof that ponies and birds weren’t different?
“Not all earth ponies do work like that. They can—”
Velar raised his voice again. “Oh, I didn’t know earth ponies could make weather.”
She blinked, stammering. “I-I mean… earth ponies can…”
“Cast spells?” Velar interrupted again. “I know you don’t allow the Old Magic. No blood spells for Equestria, you’re much too civilized for that. So only unicorns can do that. And if I remember my research… Princess Twilight was raised from a unicorn, and Cadance from a pegasus. Can’t help seeing a pattern there.”
Velar laughed then, touching her lightly on her shoulder with a wing as though they had been pleasantly joking with each other this whole time. “I don’t mean to argue with you, Starlight Glimmer. I don’t think it’s wrong that ponies organize their society. It’s proof to me that you’re civilized.
Starlight Glimmer shivered involuntarily as he said it, backing away another step. “Th-that… that point of view isn’t going to convince the ponies of Equestria. Even knowing you don’t have pony slaves won’t be enough forever.”
Velar shrugged. “We never expected ponies to transform yourselves into birds, Starlight. Do you honestly think ponies will expect us to do the reverse?”
Yes, Starlight thought, though she didn’t say so. When she thought about it like that, it sounded absurd. But that wasn’t the way ponies had ever seen it, and that didn’t seem likely to change.
“I’m just glad I’m not the one who has to make decisions like that,” Starlight finally said. “Equestria has princesses for that. All I have to do is what they tell me. I’ll never have to worry about being in charge.”
Velar shrugged. “It has advantages. And disadvantages, like birds trying to kill you. Guess pony succession doesn’t involve much assassination either.”
“Not anymore,” Starlight said, though she didn’t get a chance to continue. The sound of a bell echoed from within the building behind them, signifying the end of the first session. “They’ll want me,” Starlight said. “I’m only here as an advisor, and…”
Velar waved one wing. “Go on, then. Share all your secret knowledge about our ways. But don’t forget about your promise—I will be looking forward to that tour of Canterlot.”
Starlight found herself unable to meet the griffon’s eyes as she headed back into the palace.
Of course, calling it that was a tad generous just now—there was so much unfinished stone, and the whole structure looked barely stable enough to occupy. She had seen from the air that many of the upper levels were unfinished as well.
But considering they only had a month to build this, it seems to be coming along pretty well. Griffons didn’t have the new steel-frame construction methods being used in Manehattan—those innovations required resources the birds just couldn’t get in Equestria.
There were many ponies and birds packed inside—guards and advisors and ordinary citizens. Starlight teleported across the room in a series of short jumps, avoiding the densest crowds and searching out the biggest pocket of guards. She found her princesses in one quiet corner, conversing in hushed voices. The Solar Guard let her through without objection, even as they barred off all others.
All four of Equestria’s rulers were here, in various states of confusion. Starlight bowed to them all, though she directed her attention primarily on Twilight. Twilight Sparkle had been more closely involved with this negotiation than anypony else—Celestia and Luna were occupied with keeping the climate stable, while Cadance’s northern land was already beginning to suffer as the climate changed. Even getting away for a single day was probably difficult for them.
“Was I right, Twilight?” she asked. “About their demands?”
Princess Twilight Sparkle nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly. “They want more than just hiring weatherponies. Some of the other cities want… want to send birds into Equestria.”
Starlight froze. Her mind immediately conjured an image of a tight flock, wings beating together as they closed in on some southern Equestrian city. Dodge Junction, perhaps.
“You don’t look like you thought about that.”
She nodded. “I haven’t, Princess.” She glanced around the room—there were many birds in here, though just as many slaves and servants. The earliest stipulations of the treaty had required that no pony slaves be kept once they entered Equestrian lands—but these were such a rare thing that it hadn’t been much to ask.
“Did they give a reason? Numbers, anything like that?”
Twilight nodded again. “Basically, that they have too many skilled workers and not enough for them to do. New Scythia was prepared to uproot its economy, but lots of the other cities weren’t. Lots of birds want to be able to fly north to practice their trades in Equestria—either to raise money, or to drive up interest for griffon goods.”
“We were eager to hear what you might think of such a possibility,” Luna said, obvious tiredness in her voice. But then, the night princess rarely sounded awake when the sun was up. “Whether or not we can trust individual griffons to keep to the terms of their agreements as well as the nation as a whole. Surely nopony would be happy to see so many strangers arriving in their cites… but the alternatives are worse if we refuse them.”
Nopony had to speak those out loud. Starlight could imagine them easily—if the birds really didn’t have enough work to do, then many of their citizens wouldn’t have the money to feed their families. Their nobility had stockpiled supplies, but no way they had enough to feed huge segments of a once-productive population.
Discontent and suffering in griffon lands would not directly impact ponies at first. But over time, it might leave the birds no recourse but to steal what they needed. Or worse, it might push their whole society towards war.
“It’s not individual birds that we should be worried about,” Starlight eventually said. “Free noncitizens are generally only trying to look out for their families. They’re living from one paycheck to the next, they don’t have huge stockpiles of wealth, and they don’t have much say in griffon society. Many of them aren’t even birds. I wouldn’t worry about any of these if they wanted to come and work—except that they might not want to come back.
“I do worry about citizens, though. They often own hundreds or thousands of slaves. I would worry about them sending their slaves north to work for lower wages than a pony could work, before sending all the money back to their master. The slaves don’t get to improve their station, and our own ponies might lose their jobs.”
Twilight and Celestia shared a meaningful glance. Celestia’s horn glowed faintly, and it seemed as though the sound around them abruptly faded. It was as though they had stepped into a quiet room.
Presumably that meant that anypony outside their little pocket of quiet wouldn’t be able to hear them either.
“I see a pattern forming,” Princess Celestia said, her voice sounding sad and distant. “The griffons may not be armed with superior weapons and airships… yet. But they are still an implacable enemy. I fear we may be sacrificing Equestria one hoofstep at a time. Each new compromise yields a little ground to the altar of greater cooperation with these birds, until it is too late to resist them if they change their minds.”
“I still think the best hope for a peaceful solution is to grant their request for weatherponies,” Cadance said. “The Accipian empire lives the way it does because they haven’t seen any other way. If we provide them that way—they may find they like it better.”
“Certainly,” Luna agreed. “But realities are fixed. Griffons will not gain more magic simply by living on our soil. They could not use it as the foundation for their society even if they wanted to.”
The conversation went on for a few minutes longer. Starlight couldn’t tell what Celestia would decide, though it seemed she grew more worried as the moments passed.
Though she couldn’t hear anything from outside the bubble, Starlight could see the moment when the meeting must have been reconvened, because traffic started moving back towards the audience chamber beyond. Celestia’s horn stopped glowing, and she said her farewells to the princesses.
A few hours later, and it was over. Starlight watched as the princesses flew back to their airship hovering in the sky, chariots rising rapidly away from the little griffon city.
Starlight remained on the ground, beside a small group of guards and the emperor’s delegation.
“It isn’t what we wanted.” Velar’s voice from behind her, so suddenly she nearly jumped. Probably would have, except that she was so used to that kind of behavior from him that she had trained herself not to react. That was what he wanted, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“That’s how negotiation is meant to be,” she said, without turning around. “If either party is happy with the result, it means someone was treated unfairly. Compromise is what nopony wanted.”
The not-prince snorted with laughter. “Spoken like a pony if ever I heard it.” He emerged beside her, following her gaze up to the Stalwart Stratus. Already it was hard to see the four chariots as they neared it—though if the griffon’s massive flagship had still been up there, it would probably look like a child’s toy.
“Seriously though, birds are going to be upset about this. Barring slaves or anyone with slaves from working in Equestria—that’s almost every citizen in Accipio. Probably is every citizen.”
She shrugged. “I told you ponies wouldn’t see things the way you did. Besides, from what I saw of your census, it hasn’t restricted most of you. And the ones it has will be fine. Birds like you can still visit, anyway. You don’t know how big a compromise that is. A decade ago, nopony would’ve even considered it.”
Velar sighed. “I suppose it was wishful thinking that this treaty would be easy. Unity knew we couldn’t keep living here the same way we lived anywhere.”
Starlight hesitated. Then she leaned in a little closer to him, whispering. “If it really causes trouble, I could probably get them to renegotiate in a few months. Once we have lots of evidence to point to as reasons they should reconsider.”
Velar grinned. “I’ll let you know. You’re right that it won’t hurt most citizens. They’ll be sour they can’t send their slaves to work Equestrian markets, but I can’t imagine any of them going hungry. If they had the wealth to make it here with their households, they’ll have the wealth to keep surviving.”
The Stratus began to move. At this vast distance, its acceleration seemed slow, though she knew from experience it had one of the new impeller engines. It would be back in Canterlot before morning.
Without me on it.
As part of the treaty, an Equestrian embassy would be erected here in New Scythia. Starlight Glimmer had been given all the resources she needed to set it up. I wonder if Trixie would be willing to move down here for a while. I bet griffons would love her magic shows.
“Do you really think two hundred pegasus ponies will be enough?” Velar asked, interrupting her thoughts. “It was less than half of what we wanted.”
Starlight Glimmer didn’t want to give the honest answer—not when she knew it would bring no confidence to the not-prince. “Depends how good they are. If Celestia said they would send the best, I’m sure she meant it. It should be enough for New Scythia to change its climate, even if it isn’t enough for any of the other cities. But maybe the other clan lords will want to broker their own contracts with Equestria. Once they see how well it works down here…”
Velar laughed. “That depends on the first harvest. Lots of grain, happy livestock… maybe they’ll consider it. How often do crops fail in Equestria?”
They didn’t, but that was more than just weather. Earth ponies tending the fields, unicorns to cure blights before they got severe and to keep pests away… griffons simply couldn’t farm that way. “Never,” she said.
“Good.” Velar forced a smile. “How about some wine before you retire? You must be worn from a tough day of negotiating.”
“Sure,” she answered without thinking. “I might like that.”
Gilda could smell Kios before she saw it. By no means was it a bad smell, though the scent was so strange and intense she actually slowed down in her flight, taking a deep breath. It was cooking meat—a luxury she had often dreamed about, but rarely been able to experience.
Any doubt that these birds were really the ancient ancestors of her own people vanished before she even penetrated the clouds.
She tucked her wings close to her sides, angling downward for a dive. It was a pony maneuver, but one that still worked well enough for a griffon. She wouldn’t get the dramatic trail following her down the way a pegasus might, but she wouldn’t have wanted it anyway. She certainly didn’t want to announce her arrival to a whole city—this mission would be quite pointless if she did.
Gilda wasn’t the only one in Griffonstone who wanted to know what their ancient brothers and sisters had become. She was just the one brave enough to actually come here.
It can’t all be true. Ponies probably said stupid things like that about Griffonstone too. She could still remember the reaction she got the first time she visited Ponyville. This would be like that.
As she broke through the clouds, Gilda got a good look at Kios for the first time. Though to call it a city might be a bit generous just now. The streets suggested little in the way of order—it seemed as though the griffons didn’t care much about how non-flying citizens would get around.
Gilda was struck first not by anything in the city itself, but what it had done to the forest all around. The surrounding forest in every direction had been stripped bare. Not harvested as ponies did, bringing in the largest trees while allowing the youngest to grow the next generation. Here, there were only rows and rows of stumps. That doesn’t look like a good idea.
The city was positioned beside a large freshwater lake—a fairly desirable spot, though she understood that few ponies had tried to live here. There were dangerous animals in the lake, and more in the forest. Too much trouble for ponies, but perfect for a race who enjoyed a little challenge.
The lakeshore was littered with bones. It looked like thousands of fish had decided to swim to the coast and drown themselves. Why, Gilda couldn’t imagine.
As strange as all that might be, it seemed that Kios was lively enough. The closer she got the more voices she heard, and the more birds she saw moving about. This one town had a larger population than all of Griffonstone several times over. I wonder how they get enough meat.
Gilda picked a wide, public-looking street to land, and found she attracted surprisingly little attention here. Most of those passing on the street were not birds, but zebras or minotaurs or other things. Those few birds she did see were dressed in expensive-looking robes, of an old open-faced style she had recently learned was called a “toga.”
“Hey,” Gilda said, stepping up to the nearest vendor and pointing at the strange food he was selling. A stripped wooden stick, with bits of meat and vegetables stuck along its length. The smell was fantastic. “Do you take bits?”
The bird behind the stall looked a little old so far as griffons went. Old enough that most of the feathers on his face had gone white, and one of his eyes looked like it didn’t focus right. He nodded warily. “Sure, sure. Changing over to the slave currency before we’ve even been here one winter, why don’t we. Our young have no spine anymore…”
He glanced down at something on the counter, something Gilda could just barely see. Some kind of currency information? Yet at a glance, she couldn’t see any words written there, only a few crude pictures and some scratch marks. “Three bits.”
“Only… three…” Gilda shut herself up before she could give away how excited she was, practically throwing them at him. She couldn’t help but notice something else as she waited for him to prepare one of the meat sticks for her, seasoning each piece with a slightly different powder. She could feel eyes on her back, lingering on her satchel. The bag contained only a few dozen bits she’d brought for travel expenses, and maybe to bring home a history or two for other Griffonstone birds to read over.
“Here.” The old bird offered the stick to her. “Pork, salmon, veal. Enjoy your kebab. And next time bring some real money.”
Gilda didn’t know what “veal” was, but one sniff and she didn’t care. She took the kebab and ate as she walked, searching for anyone who looked like they were selling books. The sensation of being watched developed into something a little more serious—she was conscious of a few shapes following behind her as she made her way through the marketplace. Trying to stay hidden, though she could catch them moving just out of sight whenever she turned to look.
She spotted a bookseller at the end of a strange and twisting hallway of increasingly dense stalls, more than a few of which had little crowds wearing restraints gathered around behind them. I guess the newspapers were right about slaves. But she didn’t stop to question them and walked as quickly as she could past their stalls. They weren’t why she was here.
Until she got to the booksellers. There weren’t many of them—compared to pony cities, books seemed more of a curiosity to griffons than an essential. So not unlike Griffonstone in that way. But there were a few shops, selling strangely dark books with sturdy covers that she could smell even as they were arrayed on the shelf.
“Yes?” The bird behind the stall was a female this time, with strangely splotched feathers and speckles perched on her beak. “Which house sent you?”
“None,” she answered, approaching the books, and squinting at their covers. She had been afraid the old language would have changed too much for her to read it—but apparently it hadn’t. Gilda was not a particularly strong reader, of course—but she knew as much as the public school required her, of the griffon script and the pony alphabet. “I’m here to shop for myself.”
The bird inspected her for a long, angry moment. The eyes seemed to be searching for something on her. “If you are the sort of bird who can afford what I am selling, you wouldn’t dress like you had just flown out of a forest.”
Gilda glowered at her, puffing out her chest a little. “I’m not from here, birdbrain. I flew here from Griffonstone. We don’t do things the way you do.” We’re more civilized, she wanted to add, glancing back the way she’d come. She could hear shouts from out there in the market—extolling the virtues of chained individuals as they were led up onto the block one at a time. She saw no ponies there, but she did see birds. I wonder what someone does to get made into a slave.
“I see.” The merchant adjusted her spectacles, looking Gilda up and down again. “You’re an Endurance fledging then, eh? Come to see what birds can do when they don’t sell their souls to ponies?” She gestured around with one wing. “Well, take it all in. Too bad you didn’t visit when we still lived in Accipio. These poor hovels wouldn’t have been suitable housing for slaves a few months ago.”
“Endurance,” Gilda repeated the word, which sounded important for some reason. Had she read it as a child, maybe? Or seen it carved? “I think we had an old king by that name… once? It was a long time ago. We lost something important, the—”
The merchant cut her off with a grunt. “Your souls aren’t dependent on some object, little fledging. You can’t claim to me that you lost some magic stone and your soul went with it. Every bird from Victory to Virtue knows the story. Don’t come seeking absolution from a bookseller. We have priests for that. Or keep living on in cowardice. Maybe you’ll be born a donkey in your next life. Or worse, a pony.”
Gilda puffed herself up again, spreading her wings. What was it about this bird that made her want to punch her squarely in the mouth? But she resisted the urge—she couldn’t help thinking about the market, and the griffons for sale there. Attacking someone did seem like a way to end up put onto the block.
“I want to buy a book on Accipio. Something to bring back with me and show the other birds in my home. We would like to know more about our old history. The birds we used to be.”
Gilda would go to a priest, whatever that meant. But first she would accomplish her task.
“You’ll want this one.” The merchant lifted a particularly weighty-looking tome from one shelf, its cover scratched and beaten from many readings. But then, every book for sale here looked like it had survived some kind of disaster.
They did, stupid. Everyone in Accipio had to escape a volcano.
“Lady Caprice Inksworn’s comprehensive Defeats of the Empire. Even has a few interviews with some of the birds of Endurance after they were made captive in Equestria. You can have it for… twenty bits.”
Gilda reached into her satchel, counting out the requisite amount and setting them down on the merchant’s cart. She seemed a little amazed as she stared down at the bits, as though she had expected something from Gilda that she hadn’t done.
The merchant made the bits vanish into her cart, removing another smaller book from the shelf and setting it on top of the first. “And since I’m in a generous mood, take this as well. It’s not expensive… we use these in schools to teach young birds. You might have use for it in Griffonstone.”
Gilda glanced down at the cover. Honor of Beak and Claw had a much more mass-produced look to it, with ink stamped hastily onto the pages. It didn’t have a cover of the strange-smelling material either, but plain paper. More a pamphlet than a book. She tucked them both away in her satchel, sealing it again. She would have to be careful with her bits from now on.
“What is a priest?”
The merchant explained, though her explanation didn’t make a whole lot of sense. In the end, Gilda found herself wandering the streets again, up towards something called the ‘palace district.’ There was apparently a monastery there, someplace where priests lived. They would answer her questions, even if she wasn’t from the city itself.
Gilda smiled to herself as she finished off the kebab, enjoying the flavor of each new piece a little more than the last. The palace district had no palaces, though it seemed like the birds were working very hard to make it look like they did.
But they did all this in just a few months. Many of the wooden mansions still had work crews laboring around them, dragging materials, setting foundations, or doing other construction that Gilda didn’t understand. Just about every bird she passed here wore those same strange robes, and they all looked at her with scathing disdain.
There was one good thing about coming to the richer part of the city—the more constables she passed, the less she felt like she was being followed. Whatever opportunity the undesirables of Kios had been waiting for, apparently it hadn’t come.
At least none of their constables actually tried to stop her as she reached the steps of the monastery.
She recognized it from the description the merchant had given her, and the smell of incense coming from within.
The merchant had explained that all four elements would be represented prominently on the grounds, and she could see them now. A modest garden of wilting flowers and sad saplings, a little fountain of dirty water, a blazing pyre. And the white flags were meant to catch the wind.
Not only that, but the multiracial society of Accipio did not extend to its holy places. Past the fence were nothing but birds, all naked save for their jewelry.
One of them met her by the gate—apparently, he had been watching her stare. “Why are you here?”
“I… don’t know,” she said. “I want to know what it means to be Accipion. I want to know how you have survived so much and stayed so strong.”
The bird smiled in return, as though that were exactly the right answer. “Then come inside. We will show you.”
It was as though Gilda had spent an entire lifetime blind. The monastery was an assault on her senses—so many strange and interesting things that she was unable to process them at once.
It was divided into several buildings, built much more sturdily than many of the makeshift houses outside. There were no tents here, only sturdy wooden fortifications and burrows that were deeper and wider than most earth ponies could dig.
Her escort took her first to a small outbuilding, where she left all her clothing and possessions and donned a plain white wrap. For the first time since arriving in this city, there was no small army of servants waiting inside, no creatures of any kind who were not birds. “Where are all the… other things?” Gilda asked her escort, whose name she had learned was Garth.
“None who are unclean may walk the sacred ground of this monastery,” he said. “The other races have their own faiths, and we do not interfere with them. The zebra listen to the Old Spirits, Equestrians worship their Alicorns. We follow a different path.”
“What path is that?” Gilda asked, as they made their way into a small stone building. Plants surrounded it—flowers in blue and gold, that sparkled strangely in the sunlight. Inside, the air was filled with incense, so thick that she could barely see across the gloom.
“Perfection,” Garth answered. “Our ancestors demand we make use of the lives they won for us. Their souls watch over the path of every bird now. They demand sacrifice of those who live, but what they want most of all is to see that we have made something of ourselves. The only sin in their eyes is submission.”
They stopped in the center of the room. Gilda could see half a dozen monks wearing robes like hers, though the cloth was much darker. The sound of glass chipping came from all around the room, echoing off the worktables. She saw the windows a second later—they were scenes, like those she’d read about in Canterlot Castle. But while the ponies doubtless had something cute, these were scenes of victory—brave birds wielding bloody swords, standing alone against a horde of enemies. In one, a tide of indistinct monsters fell away before a single triumphant bird in armor that made him look nearly twice his size.
In another, she could see the spires of a city, taller and prouder than anything she’d ever seen in Equestria.
Griffonstone does that a lot, she thought, swallowing. “I, uh…” She lowered her voice. “I don’t mean to be rude, Garth, but… the ancestors. Do birds actually… believe that stuff? Do you really think the souls of dead birds are up there somewhere? Or… is that more of a metaphor?”
The monk’s expression was hard to read. He hurried her from the workshop, so fast that she only barely managed to see what the other birds inside were doing, working on tiny bits of colored glass, chipping them away according to paper outlines in front of them. He stopped her outside the building. “I see you have come from far away,” Garth said. “I don’t think any other bird would question what is plainly known by all. Where did you come from?”
“Griffonstone,” Gilda said. “I’m not trying to be a jerk about it. I’m just curious. Where I grew up… I don’t think anyone believed in anything. Except themselves.”
Garth nodded sadly. “Selfishness is so easy to confuse with self-interest. It is an easy mistake for birds to make. I’m guessing the Order of Unity is not very strong there.”
She looked away, not relishing how he might react. “It doesn’t exist. We don’t know very much about… how we used to be. The oldest birds I knew would sometimes tell stories about how the ponies tried to make us weak, how they’d never give in… except they had. We were weak. The most we ever do is win the Equestria Games.”
Garth nodded again. “Walk with me, Gilda.”
She did—through the garden of strange flowers, which grew quite well in Equestria’s soil. As they walked, Gilda realized the garden wasn’t just filled with plants—there were monuments here, obelisks ranging from a foot tall to big enough to tower over her, in many shades of dark stone. There was a little stand mounted to the front of many of them, and from a few, little sticks of incense quietly smoldered.
“We remember our past, Gilda. There are many stories of ancient emperors—birds of power who crossed the Styx into Elysium to consult with our victorious dead. But you don’t have to believe in any of that to know the ancestors are watching us. They are, because they must be. They give birds the power to excel in whatever calling they desire. They fill the body with strength to face terrible enemies, or sharpen the mind to create marvelous works of art.”
“They weren’t doing any of that in Griffonstone,” Gilda said, before she could stop herself. “We haven’t made much of anything since I’ve been alive. The whole city is barely holding itself together. The palace is half covered with moss that nobody scrapes off. Our king died ages ago, and we never got a new one.”
Garth turned away from her, bowing to the nearest of the monuments for a few seconds. He spoke very reverently when he continued. “Do not blame the ancestors whose way you refused to walk. They expect us to be strong, Gilda. They expect us to take what we want. They expect us to improve ourselves until we are strong enough. And sometimes, they expect us to die.”
Gilda didn’t argue with him. It did seem to her like a rather self-fulfilling religion. If the only thing the faith asked of its followers was success, and for worship it required them to learn the skills they would need to be successful, then of course its followers would succeed! But then again, maybe that was what Griffonstone needed.
Garth didn’t interrupt her thoughts for another few minutes. “There are those among my order who have been granted vision of the world beyond. Those with higher offices—the emperor, the clan lords—many of them have seen these things as well. If you ever have the chance to meet one of them, you could ask. Hear an eyewitness’s account.”
“Maybe I will,” Gilda said, though she couldn’t hide how doubtful she felt from her voice. The odds of meeting a bird that important seemed slim—and the odds that she would have the guts to call their region false in front of them were far smaller. In a way, it wasn’t that different from what the ponies did. They didn’t worship the princesses. If they had any religion at all, it was friendship.
“I think the problem with Griffonstone is that we lost our identity,” Gilda eventually said. “Equestria took it away from us, tried to give us theirs. But we didn’t want it. Most birds I try to make friends with the pony way would rather just say something rude, or maybe even try to fight me. What could I do if I wanted to…” She gestured around at the monastery. “What do you do here, anyway? Aside from worshiping the ancestors.”
“We teach birds who wish to improve themselves,” Garth said. “This is Kios, current capital of house Vengeance. The house maintains some of the greatest masters in every craft. Tactics, war, carpentry, poetry, chemistry… every skilled pursuit you can imagine. The ancestors demand perfection, but they do not ask it all at once. We must perfect what we can—we will learn the rest eventually. If not in this life, then the next.” He started walking again, leading her out of the garden and towards the largest, center building.
“I think… I think it would be good if the birds I knew had a chance at something like this. Lots of them don’t even work, they just forage for enough food to survive, living in rotting houses and gossiping about each other. It would be nice to bring them back some purpose.” Not for her—Gilda liked where she was, more lately than ever. The pony way had grown on her—she liked making friends instead of fighting, and the idea of slavery terrified her. But the others… maybe they could copy the good without imitating the bad.
“You wouldn’t have to carry that burden alone, Gilda.” Garth sped up, leading her towards the large building. She could hear voices inside—voices raised in song. It was strange and discordant, not belonging to any pony school of music she had learned. The birds seemed to be using only their own voices—it was mesmerizing. “When I spoke of a chance to meet one of the clan lords, I was not being merely hopeful. Santiago, Clan Lord of Vengeance, is just through there. He comes at the same time every day to burn offerings to his father. Yet… if we wait just outside, you might be able to speak with him when he emerges. Explain the state of Griffonstone to him—with his permission, we might be able to send skilled masters to teach there. Do you think the birds of Griffonstone would want that?”
Gilda didn’t have long to consider, but she didn’t need it. “So long as they don’t bring an army too. We’ve… since the volcano thing, we’ve worried that Equestria would take our land away, fill it with birds from the old homeland. So long as it doesn’t look like you’re trying to take over, you can come.”
Garth smiled knowingly. “An understandable fear. But no… the Equestrian treaty forbids soldiers from leaving our territory except as the personal guards to our leaders. These birds would be… like me, like my brothers and sisters here. Experts in their craft, to teach birds who came to learn and improve themselves. That’s it.”
“That sounds awesome,” Gilda said, before she could stop herself. “But… aren’t the clan lords, like, really important? I don’t want to get in trouble. What if I said something stupid?” She’d sure done enough of that during her time in Equestria, no matter how hard the ponies had tried to teach her otherwise.
“It wouldn’t be anything to worry about,” said another voice, from on the porch of the building. Gilda looked up and saw a single bird standing there, wearing a white robe just like hers. She was immediately struck with just how handsome he was—his muscles were barely contained in that thick wrap, and despite the smell of a recent bath there was a musk to him that threatened to confuse her senses. Those eyes were the worst of all—a predator, one who was accustomed to getting what he wanted. Yet for all that, he didn’t seem much like a “clan lord,” whatever that was. He was just a finer specimen than Griffonstone had to offer. “Just say what you’re feeling. Though our labors are different in life, we are all equal before the ancestors. Just as we are equal in death.”
Gilda swallowed, feeling the weight of his eyes on her. “Y-you are…”
“Clan Lord Santiago,” he repeated, smiling. “Yes.” He stepped down out of the building. Several monks were attending him—though at a single flick of his wings, they all backed away. Even Garth, bowing once to her as he retreated. “Tell me what it is you want, visitor.” He approached, sitting down beside her. So close, he was almost within reach. “I know where you came from. Voices whispered it to me. What is it you want?”
The same robes, the same feathers, Gilda could almost believe what he had said about birds being equals in the monastery. A strange thought, after living with ponies her whole life. No ageless princess could pretend to be an equal with her subjects, even if she was a friend.
“This,” she said, gesturing around at the monastery. “Griffonstone needs purpose. We don’t have magic of our own, we don’t have wealth… even with as much land as we have, I don’t know if we’re going to survive the famine. But if we had a monastery like this… teachers… someone to give birds direction. Maybe then we could. That’s why they sent me here. I bought books, but… I don’t think books will be enough.”
Clan Lord Santiago grinned at her. “Clan Vengeance happily accepts your invitation, Gilda. I will send the resources to build a fine monastery in Griffonstone, and all the teachers your city needs. Why don’t you come with me back to the palace? We can work out the details over dinner.”
The so-called “Tournament of Freedom” was one of the most important civic events in Accipio. Even when tensions between the great clans were highest, even when the clan lords would’ve attacked each other rather than speak publicly, the Tournament went on. That truism proved accurate even now, where the land of Accipio and all that had been accomplished there was buried under feet of ash.
Gina of the Office of Imperial Enforcement, 2nd Seal, had not been kept abreast of developments in the Homeland. As interested as she was to hear what the Emperor’s exploration boats had learned, her own responsibilities were just too important to let herself be distracted. Particularly with the Tournament of Freedom basically stopping civic life for the next three days.
New Scythia filled with the birds of all four surviving clans, but for once there were no accommodations for them and the slaves they brought to compete. So instead they set up camps around the city, meaning enforcers like Gina had much further to go. Her crisp uniform and polished bronze buttons were enough to intimidate most into obedience even if the city watch did not protect her.
Most, but not all. House Valor was as obedient to the law as they had ever been, even if they didn’t always agree with the will of the emperor. But Victory’s birds refused to let her and her enforcers into their camp for nearly six hours, until the city watch was dispatched to force the issue. And Vengeance… most of her friends weren’t even brave enough to enter their camp. Birds affiliated with Virtue had a strange habit of going missing in their new city of Kios.
Gina was obviously not a Virtue bird by birth. Her coat resembled a tiger, with gray stripes on white, instead of the eagle resemblance of Virtue. But Gina still wore the imperial seal on her neck. She had no illusions about what Vengeance intended. But with the first day of the tournament only a day away, someone had to issue competition licenses and inspect their camp. Today, that bird would be her.
Gina had brought friends—not city guards, though she could’ve had them if she wanted. Bringing the watch would just be a painful reminder to Vengeance of the ultimate source of her authority. As much as Gina was loyal to the law first, she also understood the need to be diplomatic. So, she brought her own slaves.
All of them had been personal friends—friends made long ago, following the destruction of house Purity. Two were chief among her slaves—Hogarth the minotaur, who was large and powerful even for one of his kind, and Isabel, her spellcaster. There were a few others. A zebra to pull the cart, a few more wearing guard uniforms.
Gina’s wealth had grown in service to the imperial seal. Nothing near what it had once been, when she had still been an honored citizen of clan Purity. But a free bird could still go far.
As she had expected, the camp of clan Vengeance was a disorderly mess. The ground had turned into a slimy mud-pit across much of the area, making travel between the sloppy tents difficult. The soldiers and citizens milling about often wore nothing at all—far below the respect their stations deserved.
But she wasn’t there to enforce a dress code—there were no laws about fashion. “Take me to the competitors,” she said, leading her small band of slaves and attendants through the camp. “I’m here to issue competition plates.”
And so they did. The slaves didn’t even have tents, or sleeping bags, or anything other than a troth of water and some rations. At least no one had spilled anything in their dusty sleeping area, and it was kept mostly dry.
This wasn’t mistreatment in her eyes, though it was a sign of poverty. Contrary to pony belief, slaves did earn a wage, fixed by law at one tenth the amount a free citizen would be paid for the same work. Seeing the huddled masses of slaves attending today suggested something about the character of the contestants was different this year. These aren’t the well-trained looking for glory. They’re the desperate fleeing for relief.
“Real bunch of wretches this year,” said the guard leading her, his coat reddish and a nasty scar running up his beak. “Doesn’t look good for the clan, you ‘an plainly see.”
“Doesn’t look good for the others either,” Gina answered, though she kept her voice down. She didn’t want the slaves to overhear her agreement. “The others are like this too. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect that the clan lords weren’t allowing their more eligible candidates to compete. But that can’t be happening, can it?”
The soldier shifted uncomfortably, looking away. “Not in our camp. If you’d like to meet with Lord Santiago…”
Gina cleared her throat. “I’m not making an accusation.” She waved him off with one wing. “Looks like there are less than fifty participants here. I should be finished before nightfall.”
The soldier looked relieved—she couldn’t really blame him there. She was here to enforce imperial law—but if she actually found a violation, the public was unlikely to ever learn. Clan lords just paid their fines in private and avoided embarrassment.
“Form a line, you lot!” bellowed Hogarth, his voice carrying easily through the slaves’ assembly grounds. “No jostling, now.” He thumped his cudgel once on the ground for emphasis, and all the slaves scrambled.
They were mostly zebras, though there was a single bird and a few ponies as well. Many were alone—the property of house Vengeance. They would not need their owners with them to attest to their status. But some belonged to citizens of the house, and in that case they had their birds with them. Most looking bored or annoyed to have to stand around in the mud and wait in a slave line.
I wonder if any of them know they could get freedom if they make it far enough north. Of course, most slaves knew that running away wasn’t a good idea. Gina did not relish the idea of trying to recapture slaves that had escaped over the border. There were already complaints, but she always filed them to the bottom of her priorities.
Gina had the law to guide her now.
Her servants set up a portable desk and set out ledgers and the box of competition medallions. Only when everything was finally prepared did Gina sit down.
The bird was at the front of the line, little to her surprise. She tried to look the other way—there was no missing the familiar pattern of his fur, the dark feathers. A displaced son of clan Purity. In theory, all slaves were the same rank—in practice, bird slaves got preferential treatment. They were the ones most likely to earn their freedom. When they did, they could take their friends with them to a better life. “Name,” she said, not looking up.
“Gaillard,” he said, voice fierce. As though he expected an insult at any moment and was waiting for an excuse to fight.
She didn’t give it to him. “Do you understand the terms of this tournament, Gaillard?”
He glowered down at her notebook. “I know I’m free if I win.”
“Yes,” she repeated. “That’s… part of it. But you could be hurt or killed. Every year there’s an accident or two. You understand you’re taking on those risks freely, and that you may not win? That your owner may choose to release you if your injures make you unable to work?”
Gaillard shrugged one apathetic wing. “See? Free either way. Put my name down.”
She didn’t pick up the quill. “And you haven’t been compelled into this? If you have, I can take you into custody right now, protect you, and bring your case directly to the emperor.”
“No,” Gaillard cut her off. “I wasn’t forced or tricked. Put my name down.”
She did, then offered him a metal disk. “Welcome to the tournament, four-twenty-nine.”
He practically ripped it out of her claw, lifting the little chain around his neck.
Hogarth thunked his cudgel down loudly, only a foot or so away from the bird. “Move along, friend. Before you say something you regret.”
Gaillard looked like he might object—but apparently he thought better of it, because he turned sharply away and went back to where he’d been loafing.
Gina went through the same procedure with two dozen others, all of which were more polite. A few asked questions, inquiring about the specific prizes being offered this year or the consequences for defeat. A few even decided better of the competition and were dragged away by Vengeance guards to immediately resume their duties. The tournament’s exemption from work didn’t apply to those who weren’t going to compete.
There was only one troubled case. She could tell the instant she saw the way a particularly angry-looking bird dragged an earth pony by a spiked chain around his neck—the only thing compelling the pony to obey. Were it not for those spikes, an earth pony could easily outpull a griffon on the ground. Gina couldn’t tell which of them was angrier.
“One for the tournament,” said the bird, as though placing an order at a kebob stand. “His name is Kelee.”
Gina acted as though she couldn’t even hear him. She ignored his insistent stance, instead meeting the eyes of the slave. “Kelee, is that right?” She didn’t actually write it down, though. She could already tell how this was going to go.
He nodded, tugging once at the chain around his neck.
“He’s mute,” the bird squawked at her. “He knows the rules and wants to fight, just put him down and I can get out of here.”
Gina gestured with her claws, and her unicorn stepped forward, aiming her horn at the bird.
“Drop that chain, citizen. Right now.”
He made as if to yank it again, hard. Isabel was faster, severing the end of it with a flash of power that melted links and splashed the bird with a little molten metal. Hogarth stepped up, getting in his way before he could touch the chain.
“Don’t move,” Gina said, turning back to Kelee. “Now, slave. Have you been in any way compelled to this position?”
He didn’t move, only glanced to one side, past the minotaur to where his master was glaring daggers at him.
“If you have been,” Gina went on, “I will immediately take you into imperial custody.”
“Yes!” he exclaimed, his voice raspy with disuse. “Yes, obviously!”
Gina snapped her claws together, and Hogarth lifted the bird up like an angry sack of potatoes. “Your behavior has been witnessed by an imperial enforcer. Your property is hereby ordered confiscated.” She ignored his screams—screams of vengeance, promises of what he would do to the slave, then her when he was finished.
“I only wish there was a harsher punishment.” Gina glowered at him, then gestured again. Hogarth threw him across the field, so hard that he soared past half the line before landing with a splash of mud.
“Wait by my cart,” Gina instructed, her voice softening. “You are still a slave. But you’ll find the imperial house isn’t so harsh a master.” She looked over her shoulder. “Isabel, get him a regular collar.”
Eventually every one of the slaves who wished to compete had been given their medals, and it was time to pack things up. Gina retreated as Isabel began levitating all the accoutrements of her temporary scribe station back into the various cases, walking away to wait.
“Imperial enforcement,” said a voice from beside her. “A pleasure to see you in my camp.”
Gina turned, then immediately lowered her head in a polite bow. More would be expected if she weren’t on imperial business—but while she wore that seal, she was required to show only cursory respect. “Lord Santiago. Yes, I’ve finished my work for the evening. Every one of your contestants has been entered into the rolls, unless there are more slaves somewhere else.”
“No, this is it.” The new Lord Vengeance was much like his father—handsome, intelligent, and extremely dangerous. Also tactless. “I know most of them don’t have much of a chance. My father and I normally spend a great deal to recruit and train the best, but… under the circumstances…” He let that dangle for a minute. Nevermind that half of the slaves seemed to be listening, albeit covertly.
Gina could only imagine how crushing it must be to hear the one bird in all the world who should’ve had faith in them say ‘they don’t have much of a chance.’ But it wasn’t her place to reprimand. “I’m sure every slave here is eager to bring honor to your clan,” she said instead, voice stiff. She glanced once over her shoulder, but Isabel wasn’t finished packing yet.
“Eager is one word for it.” Santiago stopped beside her, surrounded by his small retinue of guards. They looked far better-armed than the camp peacemakers who had escorted her, though none had firearms.
But do they have illegal guns stashed away in Kios I wonder. Thankfully, Gina hadn’t been sent to enforce that particular provision of the treaty. Eventually enforcers would have to make it out to the ancillary settlements. Once that happened, the true power of the crown would be decided.
It seemed unlikely Gina would be the one.
But she shouldn’t get lost in thought. Santiago was still speaking. “I know you can’t reveal confidential information—but surely you can give me an idea. The other clans, are they much better off? I wouldn’t think they would have the time for this any more than we do.”
“They don’t,” Gina said. “Not Valor, not anyone. The Tournament of Freedom might be returning to an earlier age.” An age before politics had gotten involved, and the honor and reputation of the clans. Back when it had been a chance for any slave who dared to earn their freedom through blood. Back when slaves had died by the dozen in each tournament.
But those had been less civilized times. Also, they’d been before the professional army. In previous years, even those who didn’t win might still end up with a chance to earn their freedom in military service. But not this year. Nobody’s hiring soldiers.
“Yes, an earlier age”. Santiago turned away from her, making a clicking sound with his beak. “Back when we hunted rabbits and fought over mates. How delightful.”
There was a brief, awkward silence. “I take it you have found everything to your satisfaction, enforcer?”
She nodded. “The Crown is pleased at your obedience, Lord Santiago. Only one from your house attempting to force a slave into the event, and he has been punished accordingly.” She gestured over her shoulder, where the bulky earth pony now stood beside her slaves, awkward and uneasy. “Good luck to you and yours in the tournament.”
“You hear that?” Santiago called over his shoulder. “At least someone wishes you luck. Best enjoy it, it’s the only sympathy you’ll get.” He left without another world.
Gina wasn’t attacked on her way out of the camp of house Vengeance, despite the rumors. The most her little caravan got were angry glares, and most of those were from Gaillard. “Good luck, clan brother,” she whispered to herself, once they were back on the trail into New Scythia. “I hope you will win your freedom tomorrow.”
She could only hope there wouldn’t be many ponies around to watch.
Velar wished very much that Starlight Glimmer hadn’t insisted on attending the tournament today. He'd tried to convince her it wasn't worth seeing, tried luring her away with promises of the library or trips to tour the other cities. But she'd somehow heard just how important the tournament was. Once placed on the path, Starlight Glimmer could not be persuaded to give it up.
If she could've been, she probably wouldn't have been as interesting to him.
He could still remember the last time he had sat with her in a stadium. Granted, last time this had happened his father had been putting his life in danger—for that tournament had not been with blunted weapons, but Voidsteel and fought to the death. At least in this fight no one was expected to die, and the fate of the empire was not about to turn.
Starlight Glimmer’s attitude was different too. Last time she had been a stranger, obviously frightened of Accipio and the consequences her mistakes might have for their relationship with Equestria. She had barely been off her ship for an hour before wandering into the Grand Arena to sit in the imperial box and watch the fate of both nations turn.
The pony sitting beside him on the hastily-erected wooden benches barely seemed like the same person. She didn’t look upset, didn’t look on the edge of anger or vomiting. She’d even found herself one of the colorful wraps many birds were wearing to support their houses, albeit hers was not in the color of any house. Given her position as ambassador for Equestria, it would’ve been improper for her to support one house over another in these games, which she had recognized without needing anyone to explain for her.
His father had been right when he said that all ponies were like females, constantly jostling and politicking with words instead of claws.
“So explain it to me again,” Starlight said, tossing the remains of another vegetable kebob into the bin with her magic—perfectly accurate, as always. “Slaves can earn their freedom in this tournament, but why would they want to? You said that you have to pay them. They can just buy themselves free, can’t they?”
Velar looked away, a little awkwardly. “Well… yes. Easier for some than others, though.” He kept his voice down in the royal box—the “stadium” was a set of wooden benches this year, raised as high as something might be at a youth’s academy. Most birds were watching from low clouds, which filled the sky with openings periodically to give them a view down to the stadium. That meant most on the benches weren’t birds, but slaves. This was their tournament, after all.
The clan lords each had boxes though, one at each of the four cardinal points. Now that there were only four clans, it was easier to make separations like that.
His father and mother were engrossed in conversation, but still these kinds of questions weren’t polite for important company. As often as Starlight Glimmer demonstrated she had mastered one griffon guideline, she would ask something like this, and show how ignorant she was in others. He whispered, wings shifting uncomfortably at his sides. “Every slave has a price of freedom—based on their age, and their species, and sex. But they get paid based on the work they do. One tenth what a regular worker would make.”
“It’s too high?” Starlight guessed, bitterness in her voice. “They don’t have any other way of escaping?”
“Some don’t,” Velar agreed. “Suppose a scribe gets buried in debt and is sold as a slave to pay it. Scribes make good money—odds are, she’d be free in a year, if she saved. More if she didn’t. But those down there aren’t scribes. They’re ditch-diggers, laborers. It might take then ten years to earn their freedom, and that’s assuming they can hold on to everything they earn.”
“Oh.” Starlight fell silent, brooding as she watched the various battle lines drawn out.
There were six little circles on the ground—room for the many lesser contests that would lead to the final event. He could just make out the mass of slaves assembled behind the seats on the other side—wearing red, for house Vengeance. His own house’s slaves would each wear something green, just as Valor would wear orange and Victory blue.
“There’s nothing sinister about it,” Velar continued. “It’s just… one small consequence of our history. Griffons have always believed in the right of blood above everything else. When you’re charged with a crime, you can fight to prove you’re innocent. Same thing here—if you’re a slave, you ought to have the right to take your freedom.”
Starlight shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him, edging just a little distance away. There was a strange expression on her face, a mask. She got this way whenever she wanted to argue. Eventually, she forced herself to look back at the arena. “And nobody dies anymore, right? They’re just fighting for… sport?”
“Yeah,” Velar said, though he felt a little guilty as he did so. “Well, nobody’s supposed to die. Each stage of the contest has different rules. First round doesn’t even have weapons—it’s a contest of strength. Get him out of the arena, and you win. Only time I ever saw anyone die that early was a minotaur…” He trailed off, remembering the brutal day. It had been the first time Velar had ever seen a person die. There had been so much blood…
“After that?” Starlight prompted.
“After that, the winners get into teams. One of each race.” He went through the details. The contest was complex, with different abilities tested at each stage. In that way, this arena was very much like the griffon religion. Any victory was possible, so long as it was earned.
It was also officiated like a religious service, which is why his father rose at that moment. He cleared his throat and looked to Starlight. Her horn began to glow—obliging his request. The emperor had asked her only the night before if she would consider helping make up for the inadequacy of the arena with a little pony magic.
In an earlier age, they never would’ve dreamed of accepting pony magic for anything, no matter how dire the need. But watching their homeland burn was a harsh lesson. Watching the stores of supplies dwindle by the day was another one. Velar could only hope the other clan lords had been as prudent, and would be accepting pony help in their cities. The gold it cost was exorbitant—but when the food ran out, what good would their gold do them?
There was no concern of starvation today, though. Velar could smell food in abundance throughout the stadium. Once every year, the slaves would not be eating porridge and gruel, but the finest they had. The reverse was supposed to be true for the birds who owned them—but that half of the ritual was quietly ignored, with a single small bowl of porridge generally served (and not eaten) at breakfast to fulfill that requirement.
“PEOPLE OF ACCIPIO!” Gaius’s voice bellowed out from every corner of the stadium as though there were thousands of him—much more impressive than a simple volume-enhancement spell. It was more impressive than wearing the Voidsteel armor, though Gaius did not have it today. There would be no members of the royal family fighting to the death during this tournament. “Citizens, freemen, and slaves. Honored guests. We welcome you all.
“On this day, we remember our unity. We thank the strength of all of you for bringing us here. Your valor, your courage, your diligence. This tournament will take place in lands ceded to us. You will fight as our ancestors did—not in a glorious stadium, but in the dirt. With each event today, you reenact a battle that is sacred to us. Your sweat and blood allow us to remember those who have come before—to remember the pasts we have forgotten. Our ancestors are pleased to be remembered, and Unity is pleased as we bring all things together in one.”
Gaius rapped his staff down loudly on the ground, signifying the beginning of the games. Referees began shouting down below—but in truth, the crowd was still more focused on its conversation. At this stage, there were many enrolled who lacked the skill to be worth watching. They would be weeded out in these early events, so that only the most dangerous remained.
Velar hadn’t mentioned how this had become a recruiting event for the guard. A laborer might take twenty years to buy their freedom, but they could do it in three as soldier. Not this time, though, Velar thought, as he scanned the lower ranks of the arena. He didn’t expect to see army recruiters down there—but he recognized them in one camp. Victory’s lower box was filled with them, a retinue almost as big as it would’ve been back home. Or maybe these cramped wooden seats only make me think it is. Even so, he didn’t see a single bird from any other clan, not even his own. They just didn’t have the gold to spare paying troops they didn’t need. What are you thinking, Victory?
He leaned to one side, waiting for his father to notice him, then gesturing with a wing across the way. “What do you make of that, father?”
Gaius made an uncomfortable sound, eyes narrowing. He immediately glanced to the same position in front of Vengeance, but found the box filled with more slave onlookers. They were packed in so close down there that many were sitting in the place reserved for the legs of the watchers above. Given the quality of the fighters below, it seemed more likely anyone who died here would be suffocated by bodies, not beaten with a blunted sword, or gored by a minotaur horn.
“I recently heard Victory has suffered a crop failure—the land was too damp for their corn,” Guinevere whispered. “Seems a strange time to be recruiting soldiers.”
“Or the best time.” Gaius turned away, gazing back down at the contest grounds. “Grain already costs more than the pay of common birds. Without firearms, Victory may hope to overwhelm its enemies with numbers again.”
It was a painful thing to think about. Velar withdrew, returning to his seat beside the pony ambassador. Starlight seemed concerned as she watched him, though her tension from the moments before was mostly gone. She kept glancing back down at the fighting, as though checking to be sure the slaves weren’t killing each other.
They weren’t, obviously. The wrestling would go on for hours. “You noticed something you didn’t like,” Starlight said, as soon as he sat back down. “What was it?”
Velar looked away. “Internal matter. These events are… a chance at glory for the great clans as well as the slaves who compete. You can see those empty rows in the front of each section. Those are for the slaves who lose. The clan with the mostly empty rows will be the winner—normally, father provides training for interested slaves for months before one of these. Sometimes a slave will practice for years to be able to compete—even losers who stay in until the end can bring honor to the house, and get rewarded. Better jobs, less work, buying a family member owned by another clan. High prizes.”
Of course, he hadn’t answered her question. Velar waited for Starlight to stab back with a comment to that effect, but this time she didn’t. “Do you think clan Virtue will win this year?”
He shrugged. “Clan Virtue wins if birds have food on their plates.” He lowered his voice a little more, as he had done before when discussing things he knew he shouldn’t speak about in polite company. “If we weren’t already struggling for the gold to keep this empire running, I wouldn’t be against freeing the whole lot of them. But we need the labor, and all those wages… it just wouldn’t work. You can’t turn an empire in a day.”
“No,” Starlight said, visibly relaxing. “I guess not.” She returned to her seat, close enough for him to feel her comforting weight against him. What had he said?
Starlight Glimmer knew she wasn’t going to enjoy the tournament.
She hadn’t intended to go at first—some parts of Accipian culture just weren’t meant to be appreciated by ponies. They weren’t the only nation like that. Thanks to her connection with Twilight, she’d visited Yakyakistan at least once, and been thoroughly appalled by the time she left. But the yaks enjoyed it, so who was she to judge?
This was different, though. This wasn’t just slavery, something that deeply upset most ponies who heard about it even though they had little cultural analogues to compare against—these were slaves fighting. She had almost written a letter to Celestia the moment she heard about this but learning that it was more an athletic event and that contestants didn’t die cooled that desire somewhat.
She tried very hard to enjoy herself as things got underway. She enjoyed her Accipian food—much more flavorful than most Equestrian dishes, though she couldn’t bring herself to dare anything made of meat. Once he learned she intended to come, Velar had invited her to attend in the emperor’s personal box—another way to reinforce the rule of his family, but Starlight didn’t mind that. Given all she’d seen over the last several months, Starlight Glimmer wanted house Virtue to be the one that kept ruling.
If Vengeance takes over, Equestria is doomed.
At first, she had elated in the purpose of this tournament—slaves who competed here could actually earn their freedom! But not very many would win today. Many more would be beaten bloody, bringing glory to the clan whose color they wore. The birds called it a tournament of freedom, but it was really just another excuse to get drunk and fight a lot.
At least the yaks only break objects, instead of each other.
“There are griffons down there,” Starlight pointed out, after the first round had finished and she noticed the contestants grouping up by species. Velar had already explained the next round would involve teams matching up different species, so not unlike the Equestria games. “Why?”
“Birds can be slaves,” Velar said, in that uncomfortable voice he always used when answering questions he didn’t want to hear. “Why wouldn’t they?”
She struggled to form a coherent response. “Don’t you… isn’t it wrong to… do that to one of your own?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t see many who aren’t griffons in the citizen box.”
“Well…” he floundered. “Alright, it’s not that common. Mostly it happens when someone can’t pay their debts. If they get high enough, and you don’t have a family to pay, then you pay it yourself. Most birds don’t let themselves get into that position, though. It’s more common for… for others. But it’s not as bad as it sounds. It means not fighting for a job, it means food, and shelter, and membership in a clan. It’s often voluntary. Everyone wants security in their lives. I know it might be difficult for you, but imagine you were born into a bad situation. Your family has poor land to farm, and not much of it. Your crops fail, and winter comes. Either you can starve, or you can sell yourselves to a good family. I know which one I’d choose.”
Barbaric, she thought, but was smart enough not to say. Everything Velar said to justify this only made it seem worse to her. The tabloids back in Equestria were going absolutely crazy with slave stories. The most persistent rumor was that griffons had already broken the treaty and were keeping pony slaves. She’d never seen any, and yet…
As Starlight looked down at the arena floor, she could make out a group of a dozen or so ponies—smallest by far of any of the racially-divided masses, but still greater than zero. She felt her whole body tense. “Not-prince Velar,” she said, unable to keep the twinge of anger from her voice. “Didn’t you say that only slaves could compete in this tournament?”
He nodded. “Even former slaves are unable to fight, yes. Not unless they’ve been invited to a shared bout… It’s sacred law.”
“Then why…” She rose from her chair, horn glowing off and on, but she didn’t actually cast any spells. There was no spell that could help her escape from this. “Why are there ponies down there?”
Velar seemed confused by the question. “Because they’re… because they’re competing? Because they want a chance at—”
“Freedom,” she said. Then she had a spell. Her horn glowed, and something appeared in front of her, hovering in the air. She saw a few of his house-guard tense, but then they saw she had only brought paper and they relaxed. Maybe they realized that if Starlight intended to kill someone, there wasn’t anything their stupid swords could do to stop her. “Right here, Velar. Do you recognize this?” she pointed at the scroll.
Starlight was aware of eyes on her—her volume had attracted the royal family’s attention, as well as several of the guards. She ignored them all.
“No,” Velar said, as oblivious as ever. “That looks long, whatever that is. Is it something to do with combat in Equestria, maybe?”
Of course, stupid! He can’t read! So, she read for him. “Upon arrival in Equestrian territory, the people of Accipio will forfeit all ponies they own, to be returned immediately by airship to any port of call. Any earth pony, pegasus, unicorn, crystal pony, or thestral shall be considered free, regardless of the depth of their debt or the seriousness of their crimes.” She looked up, snapping the scroll closed. “Explain to me how you haven’t violated the treaty, every last one of you?”
“Because…” Velar seemed to be catching on slowly. His family still watched, though they didn’t interfere. Perhaps they would, if Velar didn’t have an answer. She was very curious what this emperor might have to say about a violation of Equestrian trust. “Because we aren’t in Equestrian territory, Starlight.”
For once, she was the one who was baffled. “W-what?”
“This is new Accipio,” Gaius said, speaking before Velar could. “Ambassador, there is another section. Further down, I believe. Guinevere, do you remember?”
She nodded. “Land rights are point sixteen. You’ll find it there.”
Starlight opened the scroll again, scanning down as fast as she possibly could. But the empress didn’t wait for her to finish reading.
“This is our territory now. Every acre is an Accipian province, this whole blasted dry rock you gave us down in the Badlands. Ours until the end of the treaty’s terms, at which point we agree to return this territory to you without violence. Well, Accipio is still buried in ash and worse, and we both know we won’t get ordinary growing seasons for a decade if we’re lucky. The ponies down there never left Accipian territory. That treaty was signed before any birds landed here.”
It hit Starlight Glimmer like a physical weight then. Ponies were experts with all forms of conversation and diplomacy, it was true. Even the griffons acknowledged it. Yet somehow, impossibly, they had found a way to hide something in the treaty that even Celestia hadn’t noticed.
Of course, she didn’t notice, idiot. She was busy trying to keep the world from ending. She trusted you to be the one to read the treaty. Even Twilight, who had less power over the land (and thus more time to follow current events), had largely trusted to her judgement. “B-but… when you got here, there were… there was a whole airship full of pony slaves you gave back!”
Gaius shrugged. “We never signed anything saying we couldn’t voluntarily free any slave we chose. It is the right of any master to grant freedom to the slaves, releasing them from his household.”
Starlight barely heard as he continued. She could see the truth in it—a diplomatic ruse. The ponies returned to Equestria had been wretches, the descendants of distant Equestrian colonies that had been slaves for many lifetimes. They had been sickly, hungry—not abused, perhaps, but not terribly skilled either. Not strong earth ponies, or powerful unicorns, or fast pegasi. Only the weak.
They tricked us, Starlight realized. Send the ones they don’t want to take care of anymore, and we might not get specific with our investigation. And they hadn’t. Starlight hadn’t bothered being on the ground to do enforcement. As a matter of fact, that was very much against the terms of the treaty. Violations were to be reported and mediated by the emperor’s house and the princesses directly. The birds had not been willing to tolerate constant supervision in their midst, as they had been with the constant threat of volcanic death looming over them.
“I should… I should go.” Starlight backed away, banishing the text of the treaty with a flash. “I think I… I think I need to write a letter.”
Velar shrugged, though she could see from his expression he was disappointed. “The most interesting contests always happen on the second day. Will you be back tomorrow at least?”
Stupid not-prince has no idea what this means. Starlight shifted uncomfortably from one hoof to the next. “I, uh… I’m not sure.” She vanished in a flash.
Tucked away in the back corner of new Scythia was a stone building made to look just like the newer ones slowly rising around it. But Starlight’s secret retreat didn’t have a door—only airholes that even a foal might have trouble getting through.
The proper embassy was elsewhere, with a staff of half a dozen ponies and guards provided by the emperor. Starlight Glimmer had considered herself lucky to have them—even joked with those guards, grateful that the patches on their uniforms meant she was in the presence of reasonable birds.
They were griffons, but they would give up their incivility. They’d given up keeping pony slaves, eventually they would let go of the practice entirely.
Yet, they hadn’t. Everything she’d thought—the common defense she always sent to the tabloids when they wanted comment from the Equestrian ambassador—had been wrong. Griffons did have ponies as slaves. Their agreement to free them was meaningless, at least in their eyes. It would only be enforced if they entered Equestria.
Or so they thought.
Her safehouse wasn’t actually hard to find, considering it was in the center of the pony quarter. This was where the weather ponies and farmers they had sent were living, so long as they served in New Scythia. Half of them probably suspected what the sealed stone shell was used for. Inaccessible shelters were a long-time tactic of skilled unicorns.
But none of them were unicorns, so she couldn’t be disturbed.
Starlight Glimmer started down at the empty scroll in front of her. A dozen half-written letters were already burning in the hearth, crackling a rhythm to her distress. In the distance, she could hear metal banging, the stomping of hooves, an occasional cheer. Some of the slaves fighting in that makeshift arena were ponies. She had left the event behind, so she wouldn’t be able to see for sure if none of the later fights got ponies killed. A good reason to go the next day, perhaps. If ponies were fighting to the death for entertainment here, well… maybe the tabloids would be justified in their outrage.
Eventually she settled on the simplest possible response. Starlight Glimmer would have to own up to her mistake, and to be certain that the princesses learned about it immediately. It would be worse for all involved if this information made it back to Equestria using a different channel.
So she explained the treaty—explained how she’d been fooled. Gave her estimate of the number of remaining slaves based on the ones she’d seen in the stands of the tournament.
She had told Velar that she didn’t ever want to be a princess, and she meant it. Whatever terrible decision might be waiting to be made vanished with the scroll in a puff of magical flame. Wiser hooves than hers would be the ones to make that determination, with the fate of Equestria weighed in the balance of their choice.
Starlight Glimmer was unsurprised to see a scroll waiting for her when she rose. She had slept longer than she probably should have—long enough that she could hear the distant shouts of the tournament. She had been so happy to hear the tournament wouldn’t involve any dead, as the ancient stories of griffons recorded. But there was a greater atrocity hidden in plain sight.
And it was her fault.
Starlight Glimmer didn’t want to get up. But she had put things off long enough. She had to read the Crown’s orders. Equestria might suffer even more if she failed. She shrugged the blankets off, flopping to the floor and dragging herself to the desk. Here the little glowing crystals had facilitated the delivery of this message—more convenient than feeding and caring for a pet dragon as Twilight Sparkle did.
The scroll was actually two—the inner message was sealed with thick wax and the mark of the two sisters. The outer message was simple paper, and had Celestia’s own hoofwriting upon it.
You and every other pony in New Scythia are to return to Equestria immediately. The Stalwart Stratus will arrive in two days to pick you up. On that day, deliver this message to the emperor. It is our ultimatum requiring the immediate release of every pony currently in captivity. Do not open it.
The writing was so densely packed that Starlight had trouble reading it—an obvious sign of Celestia’s emotions when she’d written it. As if the lack of greeting and terse tones hadn’t been enough.
“Well, I guess that’s the end of my diplomatic career,” Starlight muttered to her empty room. “Always wondered if I’d find a way to screw things up worse than Our Town. Turns out I can, yaaaay.” She reached down, opening one of the books on her shelf. It wasn’t a book at all, but a simple safe. She secured the sealed scroll inside it, then burned Celestia’s orders in a flash of flame from her horn.
The old her probably would’ve done something insane right now, like researching time-travel spells. She probably would’ve tried to go back in time and prevent this mistake from ever happening, or something else equally crazy. But her time with Princess Twilight had healed most of that. The old Starlight was dead now. She would have to make do with the world she had accidentally created.
Guess I won’t get to give Velar that tour of Canterlot I promised.
It seemed like a bad idea to completely sever diplomatic ties over this—but considering Starlight’s council was at least part of the reason they were in this position in the first place, she didn’t feel bold enough to raise any objections. Obviously everything she thought about the griffons was suspect. She’d been taken in by their apparent nobility and kind words. She’d let herself forget just how barbaric and backward they could be.
Celestia hadn’t been specific with Equestria’s demands. She didn’t even seem to want Starlight to know what they were planning. That also meant she wouldn’t be able to negotiate with the emperor when she delivered the scroll. Her last official act for Equestria would be as a messenger.
It took Starlight a few hours to visit everypony in New Scythia. Many of them were out on their weather shifts, and were surprised to be met with a unicorn flying through the air. But the time for subtlety was over—they had to know.
“Keep doing what you’re doing, and don’t tell anypony,” she said. “We don’t want them to be able to stop us. Be ready to leave at dawn in two days.” She extracted promises of secrecy from each pony, then returned to make her own preparations. It wasn’t even dark by the time she was finished.
Two days left here. I should probably say goodbye to Velar. But how could she do that without clueing him in to the upcoming withdrawal? For that matter, she probably shouldn’t be hiding for the rest of the tournament. It was a three-day affair, and he’d suggested that the most interesting things happened at the end. He’s clueless, but the emperor isn’t. He might suspect something is about to happen.
The emperor had been nothing but honorable from the first days of this treaty—except for manipulating her to effectively nullify part of the accord. Presumably he wouldn’t try to trap them here. But Celestia obviously thought there was a possibility something might go wrong—she wanted to give the griffons no chance to react until they moved.
I need to go back to the tournament.
Starlight Glimmer rose at the ordinary hour the next day, prepared herself with one of the formal gowns, and arrived at the imperial palace at the same time as she had during the first day of the tournament.
The guards at the steps straightened and announced her to the court as they always did—though there was nothing actually in session. She found the morning meal just ending in the great hall. The royal couple were gone, but Velar was there, engrossed in conversation with some of his guards.
They were talking about the tournament, rehashing some of the most exciting fights from the day before. Starlight might’ve been curious to hear about them, if it weren’t for all the other things weighing her down.
Velar looked up as she approached, waving eagerly with one wing. “Starlight! I didn’t think we’d see you for the rest of the tournament.”
She nodded uneasily, making her way over. She didn’t actually sit down. “I wasn’t sure you were going to see me either.” She was silent for another few moments, before adding, “You said it got more exciting on the last day, didn’t you?”
Velar nodded eagerly. “It does! Normally the crown has all kinds of exciting events planned—sea battles and cannons and sometimes even Voidsteel. But not so much this year.” He sighed. “We’ve been worried about getting the crops in, just like everyone else. So there won’t be anything crazy today.”
He went on, explaining more about the rules. Starlight no longer cared enough to learn them, so she smiled and nodded and tried to seem like she was interested. It probably worked well enough that he wouldn’t think about it. Velar loved to hear himself talk.
An hour later and they were back in the royal box for the last day of competition. The huge crowds of slaves down at the bottom were gone, replaced by maybe a dozen competitors in all. The combat grounds had been redrawn to have a single arena, with large racks of weapons and armor on either side.
“Those are practice-weapons,” Velar said, his voice a little worried. He still wanted her to enjoy herself. You stupid, innocent bird. You have no idea what’s coming.
But did she? For all Starlight knew, Celestia was declaring war on the birds for their deception. Unlikely, but… it might happen. If I was going to try and fight them, I’d do it after they already spent most of their resources farming. I’d wait for them to spread out and decentralize. Then I’d pick one house and ally with it, and use that to wipe out the others.
But nothing in the letter had suggested an actual war was going to happen. They’re not going to give up their slaves for nothing. They took a huge risk tricking us this way.
Then she had another thought, more frightening. They must’ve realized what we would think. Are they prepared to fight? Starlight Glimmer suddenly felt as though they were about to learn if any of her diplomacy had been effective. If the Accipians had managed to sneak their weapons into Equestria, she would be the first one they used them on. And I’d deserve it.
“There are guns down there,” Starlight said, pointing with her horn. “I can see them… there’s a whole rack. You aren’t supposed to have guns.” She probably sounded more accusatory than she should’ve been, because Velar put up his claws defensively as she said it.
“Hey, relax. Those aren’t real. They’re just shaped like guns, because lots of birds don’t know how to fight with anything else anymore. The bayonets are why birds sometimes pick them, that’s all.”
“Oh.” Starlight relaxed into her seat. I still trust him, after he lied to me. Why is that? “They don’t seem very useful compared to all those other choices.”
“Well… it’s about training,” Velar said. “When a slave picks one of the rifles instead of something that seems more dangerous, it usually means they’re trying to win a military contract. Even if they don’t win the tournament, someone who looks like they know their way around a rifle has a better chance than a bird who’s an expert with a sword. Swords are mostly for show these days—officer’s weapons. They won’t be worth nearly as much to the recruiters.”
As they spoke, the first pair was selecting their weapons and armor. The weapons areas were divided by a large curtain down the middle—neither one could see what the other was choosing, even as the audience could. Starlight could see both of the contestants seemed to be judging the audience reactions as they approached each weapon. That was too close to cheating for her taste, but none of the judges stopped them. Velar’s intense interest suggested this gamble was as much a part of the event as the fighting that would follow.
In the end, a heavily armored minotaur wielding a spikeless flail entered on one side, and a griffon wearing only leather barding and one of the rifles strode in on the other.
Velar hissed in disappointment, shaking his head. “That’s too bad. I was betting on Gallard to win.”
Starlight’s eyebrows went up. It didn’t matter that this tournament was unimportant to her—it didn’t matter that tomorrow her whole world would be turned on its head. And probably Equestria with it.
“How do you know?” She stared down at the stadium, but it seemed like the audience agreed. There was general booing from the Vengeance side of the stadium—the griffon was wearing Vengeance colors.
Velar leaned closer to her, though there was a little annoyance to his tone. As though he were explaining something obvious. “The rifles don’t work. That’s basically an unbalanced polearm with a blunted blade. Minotaurs already have superior reach on every other creature, and better leverage. Basically the only way to beat them is to beat them down with something blunted. Or to bleed them, but… it’s a blunted blade.” He shook his head. “Gallard’s finished. What was he thinking picking the rifle?” His claws crushed the little cup of popcorn he’d been holding, spilling it on the ground all around him. “He was so clever in the qualifiers. I was really hoping to offer him a guard contract.”
A voice boomed out from below, deep and reverberating. Impressively loud for someone without magic. The minotaur. “This pathetic challenger is no threat to me—I will allow him a second.”
The whole stadium fell still. The booing, the cheering, all of it. All attention seemed to focus on the other slaves, on each of the dozen waiting outside the ring.
“What… what does that mean?” Starlight whispered.
“It means someone else can fight with him,” he said. “If the minotaur wins, he’s granted for the finals. His competitors will be too, if they win.” Velar seemed to be considering something. He watched the other slaves intently—but none of them rose.
Finally, the not-prince himself stood. He shouted so loudly that even the royal couple were surprised. “This stadium is filled with cowards! Do none of you see the injustice here?” He lifted into the air, to gasps from the guards at his side.
Starlight watched their horror as he glided down to the coliseum floor and stood beside Gallard. Despite the absolute insanity of it, she could hear the crowd positively roaring with approval. Somehow, she could make out his voice through all of it, echoing up from the stadium floor. “I will be his second.”
Velar didn’t think it was all that strange for a bird of courage and bravery to volunteer to assist a noble cause in the Tournament of Freedom. He’d spent his childhood sleeping in war camps and listening to stories of Gavin the Just, and the loyal friend he made in the minotaur Mel’darak, when he volunteered to assist the creature in just such an event as this. Griffins were creatures of superior moral character, that was where their right to rule came from in the first place. If the former wasn’t true, then the latter wouldn’t be either.
He would have expected his own father—as virtuous and upright as he was crafty—to see the political advantage to such a move. What could show the slaves whose work they now depended on for survival how valuable they were to Accipio then a ruler protecting a slave in a disadvantaged contest?
Gaius did not raise a claw to stop him, as he could have done. He also didn’t express any kind of endorsement. He could see the typical fearful, frightened reaction from Guinevere he would’ve expected from any female. Nature just hadn’t equipped females to understand the importance of things like this. A show of virtue could inspire these birds—and maybe help Starlight understand them a little better. Maybe she wouldn’t hate him so much if she saw how much he cared about every citizen of Accipio, even its slaves.
He landed on the tournament ground, a few strides ahead of his personal guard. Anthony hurried to catch up with him. “Please, sire. Let me fight in your place. You don’t belong here. You shouldn’t be in danger like this.”
“It isn’t even to first blood,” Velar argued, waving Anthony off with a dismissive wing. “It’s just to submission, and we won’t be using real weapons. If I lose, I step out of the ring and that’s that. What’s the danger?”
Velar had the advantage in this contest now—he knew the enemy, and what he was armed with. Velar selected the heaviest, slowest armor, made from steel and padded with cloth. Without spikes on the morning star, it could withstand several direct hits without subjecting him to injury. The perfect protection from a foe like this.
As soon as he selected it, tournament armorers rushed over to help him into it. The armor was crude and didn’t protect as well as proper plate did—a true set of plate armor would’ve been tailored to his body, and fit in overlapping sections with chain mail underneath. There was none of the latter here, since there would be no blades to stop in this contest. Only blows, for which thick cloth was lighter, cheaper, and more effective.
“I knew there was at least one bird in this stadium who remembered what we used to be like,” said Gallard, striding over with apparent confidence and watching the armorers at their work. “I didn’t think it would be from house Virtue.” There was bitterness there that this young bird should not have been old enough to feel. He looked about Velar’s age—he should’ve been about the same age when clan Purity had been conquered. They had been the last imperial clan, after all. There was a reason Virtue now ruled, and it was not their superior virtue alone.
“You could refuse my help,” Velar said good-naturedly, though he made no move to stop the armorers at their work. “My noble mother would probably buy your freedom right now out of gratitude. And you’d stop my friend Anthony here from having a heart attack.”
Gallard only shook his head. “I don’t see any other volunteers. I can’t refuse you.”
Velar nodded. The armorers were working quickly, and nearly done now. The suit fit poorly, and there were several gaps a blade or arrow could’ve been shoved through to kill him. But there would be neither in this bout, and so it would be fine. Just uncomfortable. “We can sing about the victory tonight in my favorite winehouse. I promise you’ve never had wine until you’ve had Gracie’s Cranberry Sour.”
Gallard looked away. “We have to win first. Do you think you can do that, uh…” He trailed off. “I don’t know all the heirs, I’m sorry. You’re the emperor’s son.”
“Velar,” he supplied, pride only slightly wounded. But this was a slave. It wasn’t terribly surprising that he wouldn’t be abreast of the state of every noble family. The Purity clan had been mostly bought by Vengeance when their house fell, at least those that had become slaves at all.
Velar selected a warhammer from among the many weapons, one with a handle long enough he could swing it from outside the minotaur’s reach. It was a massive hunk of metal, maybe even meant for those wearing the enchanted armor. Lots of hand-me-downs end up in this arena. It was badly dented and the handle looked like it was a few blows from coming off. But that was no worry either—he could get a new weapon if this one broke during the bout.
These were not the duels to the death that had been the mainstay of ancient Accipio. Such violent conflicts were reserved for matters of succession in civilized times. It would do no empire any good if any of the ruling houses thought they could challenge for the throne at any time and survive it. Like house Purity, the price for defeat was terrible. Regardless of which side of the conflict you were on.
“We have a second!” shouted the referee—who had been much too quiet to hear from the upper stands. She was more here for the competitors, a few volumes of the tournament rules open at her table beside the arena. The birds took the ancient customs very seriously.
“This is your last chance to change your mind, competitor Torgo. Are you certain you submit to the results of this bout? Whichever side wins will proceed to finals. Whichever side loses will exit the tournament completely.”
“I’m sure,” said the massive muscular slave. Now that Velar was up close, he could see just how massive he was. The minotaur was covered with scars, and had arms that were as thick as Velar’s neck. “I could do three. But I will not invite loss by testing it.” He stepped into the ring, dragging the massive flail weapon along through the plain dirt behind him.
Velar looked around the stadium, and was a little disappointed by what he saw. The ancient stories of battles like these had taken place in Scythia, or in others of the ancient cities. There were supposed to be huge pillars of stone, and a hundred thousand cheering birds. Instead there was a sky too orange with ash and raised wooden benches. Most of the birds watched from clouds instead of the ancient architecture of their forefathers. Those wonders were now buried in ash.
“The bout proceeds until all members of one side yield!” shouted the referee, mostly for the other slaves. They would have to do this soon enough. And Velar wouldn’t be helping all of them. But he could help this one. “They need only make their intentions clear by stepping over the dividing line. If you are forced out, it will not be considered a forfeit so long as you reenter the arena within ten seconds.” She gestured, and a nearby slave smacked a massive bronze gong. Smacked it loud enough that Velar’s ears rang with the noise.
Velar stepped over the line and into the arena beside Gallard. He kept his voice low, exactly as he might do on the battlefield. It would’ve been quite easy to have this conversation before entering the arena, but that was theoretically against the rules. The entire custom was meant to symbolize the events of many of their most important stories, where unlikely allies had arrived at the last moment to rescue a bird in need. That meant you couldn’t coordinate or strategize until it began.
“Have you ever fought a minotaur before?”
Gallard shook his head. Their opponent began to close on them, taking slow, confident steps. He lifted the flail in his paw and began to spin it around and around, building momentum. Even without spikes that could crack my head open if I lose my helmet.
“We have to flank him!” Velar whispered under his breath, voice harsh and urgent. “Wear him down. No individual blow will incapacitate him. And it’s better if we don’t draw blood, even by accident.” Unlike actual contests to first blood, this one would continue in the event of a minor wound. There were many old stories of such battles, where a heroic bird had fought until they died, even though that kind of sacrifice wasn’t required. “You try and beat his legs with the butt of the rifle! Forget the blade, it’s more dangerous to us. If you stab him hard enough to make him bleed, he might go into a frenzy.”
“Is that real?” Gallard sounded doubtful. “That only happens in songs!”
Velar glared at him. “It’s real! And if it happens, you lose. He’ll fight until he dies.”
Many of the accidental deaths in tournaments like this came from such events—a minotaur would enter a rage, then beat their enemy into submission. Then keep beating them until riflemen had to put them down. By then, often both candidates were dead. There were no riflemen around the arena now—the birds watching had crossbows. He could see Anthony whispering to them even now, likely instructing them to be ready to kill to protect Velar if that happened.
Velar might be the son of the emperor—but unless someone in this bout broke the rules, there would be no consequences for anything that happened from this moment on. They were not clan Vengeance, likely to ignore the spirit of the tournament’s rules if something happened. But the minotaur won’t be trying to kill us. Just get us to surrender.
Velar spared a glance for the stands, and was pleased to see Starlight Glimmer practically hanging out of their box, watching the conflict below with obvious fear on her face. She cares what happens to me. I knew I wasn’t a total failure at this diplomacy stuff. That was what their relationship was called, right? Diplomatic?
Velar couldn’t dodge very effectively, not wearing plate. As Torgo finally closed on the two of them, he planted his legs as firmly as he could, preparing for the fight. The minotaur towered over him, taller than a bird in Voidsteel. Not nearly as dangerous—if Torgo had Voidsteel and Velar didn’t, he would’ve taken to the air and tried to bring the minotaur down with rifle fire. It could happen, if you had enough powder and the armored foe didn’t have friends. Otherwise, just run. “I’ll fight him from the front. Do as much damage from behind as you can. Back off when he targets you, and I’ll try to get his attention. We can do this.”
Torgo laughed loudly, his voice echoing through the stadium. “I never thought I’d fight a prince before. Son of the emperor, pampered bird in a cage. This is rare chance.”
He swung—completely ignoring Gallard.
Velar spun the hammer in the air, catching the flail around the haft and wrenching backward. The movement was perfect—or as perfect as it needed to be. He didn’t need much precision when there were no spikes to avoid on the flail.
He had hoped to yank the weapon out of the minotaur’s hand, but no luck. Torgo didn’t let go, and so the gesture sent him smashing to the floor beside Velar.
“Now!” He couldn’t retaliate with his own weapon twisted up in the flail—his claws were covered, just like the minotaur’s horns. But Gallard could. Even that awful rifle could land a few thumps.
And Gallard did. Velar heard a strange clicking sound, one he knew shouldn’t have been possible. Then there was an explosion, and a blast of dark smoke through the air around him.
He felt the pain in his chest as though it belonged to someone else. The bullet went right through the thin steel on his back.
His ears were still ringing—he couldn’t hear the shouts. He wobbled, toppling forward beside his tripped enemy. Red blood oozed out through his armored front.
He shot me. The thought came only with surprise, not anger or betrayal. There was too much shock for that. Then he collapsed, and didn’t think about anything.
Starlight Glimmer stared down in horror as the coliseum floor exploded into activity. The smoke from a single gunshot still lingered in the air, obscuring the mob that was taking place below.
She’d been worried enough for Velar’s fate as he began a duel without real weapons or flight against an enemy that was far larger and stronger than himself. But the not-prince hadn’t even seemed to hear her objections, or notice his mother’s terrified eyes.
Then the slave he’d volunteered to save had shot him in the back. With a rifle that wasn’t supposed to work.
Velar’s bodyguards had moved so quickly that the traitorous slave hadn’t had time for a second shot. Even as he worked the action with a claw, the first of many fletched shafts sunk into his face. The minotaur backed away in horror, dropping his weapons and cowering from the assault within.
“Get Zoya,” she heard the emperor shout to one of his guards, even as the stadium dissolved into chaos. “Looked like that shot went into his chest. Unity grant it didn’t hit him in the heart.”
Over a dozen guards surrounded the box—where had they come from so quickly? Two of them seemed specifically assigned to protect her, though they also didn’t let her get close to the royal family. Starlight’s screams were lost in the chaos.
The crowd below had broken into outright brawling. Valor slaves attacked Vengeance, and noble birds were starting to join in. Starlight didn’t hear anymore gunshots though—nor did she see any more sign of firearms.
It doesn’t work, it’s just a training rifle. Velar had been wrong—and that might have cost him his life.
Starlight Glimmer could’ve teleported away—maybe she should have. At such a time of turmoil, it was possible and likely that a diplomat like herself would be targeted. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave, not when she didn’t know if Velar would be okay.
“You need to get back to the pony quarter,” said the burly guard protecting her, as they made their way out of the stadium and hurried through the city. There was a stretcher up ahead, protected by more of the royal guards. “It might not be safe. We don’t know if this attempt is isolated or part of something bigger.”
“I’m not leaving,” Starlight argued, shoving him with her magic until they were back in the line going towards the palace. “Velar might need help!”
“We have doctors,” argued the gruff bird, glaring her down. She’d never seen a beak quite so pointed. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“Really?” Her horn glowed, as half a dozen spells ran through her mind. “I don’t think you know who I am. I don’t think you have any idea what I can do!” She was practically screaming now, as incensed as so many of the townspeople. It sounded like an out-and-out riot had finally started, and the stands were being torn to pieces. “What if not having pony magic around is the reason he dies? Maybe turning away one of Equestria’s most powerful spellcasters isn’t a great plan! Celestia knows I wouldn’t have stood there and let my prince get shot!”
Probably harsher words than any guard deserved, but she wasn’t exactly in the mood for being tactful.
A few more tense seconds of standoff, and the guards stopped trying to take her away to the pony quarter. She joined them the rest of the way to the castle, where a zebra was already waiting with an entourage to receive the stretcher. Starlight smelled incense as they led her away, and she tried to follow.
The emperor stopped her. “Starlight Glimmer—I am sorry you had to be here during such a tumultuous time. But I don’t think we will be able to continue with the day’s affairs. It might be best if you kept a low profile in the city for a few days. It would make the watch’s job much easier.”
“Is Velar going to live?” she asked, voice shaking. Probably she should’ve been worried about the greater political implications, like pulling every pony out of the city immediately following an assassination attempt like this.
But she didn’t care—she didn’t care about respecting the emperor, didn’t care about anything. Except what it had been like to watch a griffon shouting about the dishonor of an uneven match gunned down by the one he’d been trying to help.
“This is obviously Vengeance’s doing,” Guinevere was saying to someone wearing armor, just ahead of them. “Make sure Santiago isn’t permitted to leave the city until our investigation is complete. It was one of his birds.”
The emperor didn’t fill her head with empty words, as she had half expected. “I do not know, ambassador. My son is tough and determined. I have seen him endure many things. It’s possible he will survive. The old magic can preserve many who might otherwise fall. But ultimately, the cost of preserving one life that should be lost is another. I know my son… he would never consent for that price to be paid, even if it were the life of a willing friend. Even if it were a slave… he would refuse. Without a life to give in exchange, there is only so much Zoya can do.”
The emperor turned away from her, walking down the hall into the palace. “If you have faith in your polytheistic pony gods, perhaps you should pray to them for help. Velar can use all the divine aid he can gain.”
The emperor left her there. Guards barred her from entering the throne room, and she could tell from their belligerent expressions she would not be bullying her way past them. She could teleport, of course, but that wouldn’t exactly endear her to anyone. Or help Velar.
I should probably be packing. The Stalwart Stratus will be here tomorrow, and I’ll be on it. She had a feeling a lot of birds were going to hate her soon—taking away their weather magic and magical farming on the very day after such a tragedy. But it wasn’t her decision to make. Except in as much as she had been responsible for causing it in the first place.
Instead of going back to pack the last of her things, Starlight Glimmer followed the griffon doctors. She followed them past a few guards, all the way to the medical area in the back of the palace. There she finally encountered Anthony of Velar’s personal guard. And Starlight Glimmer knew she would be going no further.
“Sorry,” he said, without malice. Griffons didn’t sweat, but this one still looked ragged. He leaned on a war staff with his whole body shaking, tail smacking against the tile beneath him. “You can’t interfere. The doctors need their concentration.”
She didn’t argue with him, but she didn’t give up either. Starlight sat down directly across from him, maybe a few feet away. “You never could’ve seen that coming,” she muttered, voice low. “Velar was telling me about training rifles. He didn’t think they were dangerous.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Anthony said, still lacking anger. “That’s why the noble and great birds have bodyguards.” He turned his head towards the window, looking out over the city. Distant shouting still rang out from far away, though at least it wasn’t burning down. Somewhere as dry as this, that was a fire that would not be easy to extinguish. “Velar was the best house Valor ever had. Emperor Gaius… I’ve been watching his son since his first molting. I always knew… knew that one day he would take the throne, and finally the suffering of our empire would be over. He would be the one to solve all the problems that no emperor before him had the courage to fight.”
Anthony shook his head, smacking the wall with his staff. “I think I got swept up in Velar’s optimism. His… naivete. His Accipio would be too wonderful to live in. Unity could never allow it—our lives would be too easy, and we wouldn’t grow strong. So they take away the great ones. If he dies… Velar won’t be the first great bird of his generation to fall. It’s poetry that a bird of house Purity would be the one to pull the trigger. That’s vengeance for you, eh?” He laughed, a spiteful, bitter sound.
“You killed the one responsible,” Starlight said, lowering her voice a little. She could hardly comprehend the words she was speaking here—death was almost never a possible punishment in Equestria. Even the most terrible criminals had been locked away, or frozen in stone, or something similar. Actually killing someone? But that was how griffons did things. “Doesn’t that make it better? Isn’t that why you kill people?”
Anthony laughed again. “We kill murderers because it is honorable, not because it makes a difference. If Velar dies, Accipio will still suffer. Gaius is too honorable to have a secret flock of bastards lining up.”
“Does he have any daughters?”
Anthony shook his head. He didn’t get to say anything else, as the door immediately banged open.
It was a zebra, shrunken with age and weighed down with disappointment. She shook her head slowly. “Anthony,” she said, ignoring Starlight completely. “Go to the emperor. Tell him the bullet penetrated the stomach and the intestine. It will certainly become infected and kill him. The heir refuses the use of my magic. He must be convinced, or…”
“Aye,” Anthony said, taking off and flying away through the hallway on swift wings.
“You,” the zebra said. Starlight Glimmer realized she recognized her now, though she hadn’t while she’d been overwhelmed and confused with the weight of Velar’s impending death. This was Zoya, something like a court wizard to the empire. Starlight could smell the acrid, almost rotting smell of necromancy on the air around her. Blood magic was a forbidden, terrible art. “The equestrian is here to judge us, yes? To cast disdainful glances at those who use the tools nature has given them.”
Blood magic’s powers were incredible enough that Starlight herself had studied a little—but ultimately rejected them even at her worst. The cost of every spell was simply too high. But she wasn’t here to lecture. If Velar did use the old magic, she probably wouldn’t say a word.
There was no use lying to herself.
“I’m here to help,” she said. And she didn’t hesitate—not long enough for the zebra to interrupt her, as she clearly wanted to do. “No, I know you know your magic better than anyone. I hear you’re the best in the world. But if the prince… if the heir to house Virtue won’t use it, you don’t just have to give up. There’s another kind of magic available.” She lit up her horn for a second, mostly for effect. “Mine.”
“Inferior magic,” Zoya muttered, waving a hoof. “Ineffective. If he were not so defiant in his refusal to accept my help, he would already be healed.”
“You’re probably right,” Starlight said, though she wasn’t actually sure. “But he won’t. And my magic won’t cost anyone but me. He doesn’t have to agree to anything.”
Zoya finally seemed to look at her. The disdain gradually faded from her eyes. “Don’t think I do not know you, ambassador. You are Starlight Glimmer. The spirits whisper to me that you have gone beyond time. They say you can bend the minds of others, and twist their fates. Medical magic is something else. I do not think one such as you would know it.”
“I know first aid,” she argued. “But you’re right, I don’t. But I don’t have to be his doctor. There’s a spell… fairly difficult, but not for me. Stasis. I could freeze the moment he’s in right now, then summon experts in medical magic from Equestria. If it took them a week to get here, it would make no difference—time would not pass for Velar.” And I know it won’t take a week, because the flagship will get here tomorrow. There’s probably a royal surgeon waiting in the medical bay right now.
Zoya’s thoughtful expression deepened. “That is… an inferior option. You unicorns are proud of your abilities, but they are feeble things compared to those who are willing to pay for their spells. But… if the emperor cannot convince him… we would be fools to refuse an inferior option when the alternative is waiting for him to die.”
Already the emperor and his wife were coming down the hall, expressions twisted. “You must convince them to allow it,” Zoya finally said. “I will accept your help if it is our last resort. But I do not have the ability to make such decisions.”
“I’ll ask them,” Starlight said, though she already felt better. She knew the emperor well enough by now—or at least she thought she did. Gaius was a proud bird, but not an irrational kind of pride. He would not refuse the help Velar desperately needed when it was offered at his moment of need.
Starlight swallowed, preparing herself to make the case. It was time to save an idiot.
Velar hadn’t expected he would ever wake again. Once he made it clear to Zoya that he would not accept any life in exchange for his own, even those that were offered willingly, he had expected a painful end.
Anesthetics put an end to the first of those—modern chemistry had become very good at suppressing pain, even terrible pain. Less so about putting the mess of his guts back together. His parents had come to see him off, though he couldn’t stay awake for most of the ritual. He could barely even talk to them. “Try to… remember me,” he said, or he thought he said.
There was a strange coolness in the drugs they gave him, drugs that made it so he didn’t care even knowing his insides had been completely ruined. I thought it would be worse to die.
His only regret faded the moment he saw Starlight’s face, near the end. The pony had cared enough to come for him. I did something right. Hopefully his father could use his death, somehow. Was it good to have a martyr?
Then he felt nothing. Velar would’ve imagined that was death, except that he didn’t think either. Time was a dream, and for a few seconds he woke.
Pain returned all at once—agony in his chest that set him to screaming and thrashing immediately. Except that he was already restrained, on an operating table barely large enough to hold him.
“You fools are wasting your time!” he screamed. “I’m already dead! There’s nothing you can do!” He just wanted it to stop. Why hadn’t the assassin just finished the job and let him die?
There were more drugs, and Velar slipped into something like dream. He watched himself as though he were an observer to his own body—watched as half a dozen ponies wearing white and black worked on his open gut. Strange machines beeped and hummed around him as they cut with impossibly small knives and sewed with transparent thread.
At least it didn’t hurt anymore. He didn’t struggle anymore, just watched in fascination, searching for familiar ponies. Velar had gotten himself acquainted with many of the ponies in New Scythia, after all. He would’ve recognized any of the unicorns working in the city. He knew none of these.
Starlight Glimmer must’ve done this, he thought, in some distant part of himself that somehow remained rational. She was an ambassador. She must have called in a million favors to get so many here in time to save me.
Starlight Glimmer herself was not part of the procedure, which seemed to take a small eternity. At a few points, fresh ponies arrived with white clothes, replacing those stained with the red and black of his guts.
They’re good at this. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t spend all your time killing. Ponies had decided to get good at saving things instead.
Eventually the surgery ended, and Velar finally slept. He woke in agony more than once, coughing and vomiting until an orderly arrived with more drugs. He didn’t lash out anymore—his rational mind had returned, and all the aches had purpose.
Velar had always imagined he would die well one day, giving his life to change the world. An assassin’s bullet before he even ruled was probably not the way. I’m going to live. And so he decided.
Visitors came, in that strange pony hospital room with silver walls and a floor that shook and rumbled. Velar wasn’t conscious enough to talk to them, but he could at least hear the voices. It was good not to feel so lonely.
There were tables around him, and on them Velar could see thousands of little offerings. They were simple things, prayers written on paper and folded into origami. Flowers were the easiest, but a few were more complex. They were the way Accipians expressed their gratitude and their hope for recovery to one who had suffered.
A few were bright and colorful, but most of them were not. Instead of the fine parchments scented with perfume, these offerings were written on stained scraps. Many of them had crumbled when moved, and were little more than litter.
They were the offerings of slaves. Thousands and thousands of them.
It took a long time before Velar finally woke properly. He jerked up in the long cot, conscious of the sturdy straps around his hind legs and claws. Ponies were obviously worried about him hurting himself.
He’d been dressed in a plain hospital gown, something made of paper and printed with saccharin heart and flower designs.
His belly ached, though not from hunger. He could make out the scars running down his chest even through the gown, as the ponies had shaved away his fur to make the cuts.
Sloppy, primitive, was his initial thought. But I turned away the old magic. What did I expect?
The room was small—barely large enough for Velar’s cot and the machines connected to him with transparent tubes. There was a tiny porthole-style window, and he could see clouds slowly drifting by outside.
There was also one chair, and a pony sitting in it. Starlight Glimmer, with a dozen books piled up beside her. She’d fallen asleep buried in one of them, slumped sideways and breathing heavily. She looked and smelled like she hadn’t left the hospital room in some time, though Velar couldn’t smell much through the antiseptic and rot.
“Starlight,” he called, his voice low and gravely from disuse. His throat ached terribly, but he didn’t feel the need to drink. Something to do with the transparent bag of fluid hanging beside him, maybe?
The unicorn sat up suddenly, knocking the book from her lap. Her horn glowed with an indistinct, unfocused spell, as though confident she had to do magic but not sure what kind yet. “What is it, doctor? Another infection?” He looked towards the door—but it was still shut, obviously. Then she saw him watching her, and her expression softened. “Velar. You’re awake.”
“I guess so,” Velar said, leaning back in bed. He tried to make himself look as proud as he could, though under the circumstances it wasn’t doing much good. With so much fur shaved away and awful stitches running up his chest. “I considered just giving up and dying, but I thought better of it. I just don’t know what our two nations would do without me.”
He felt a pair of hooves wrap around his neck, in a hug far more affectionate than was proper for a griffon female. That kind of thing was beneath the dignity and poise that a proper female ought to display. He didn’t care.
“You don’t know how hard it was,” Starlight whispered, before suddenly breaking away and glaring at him. “Why’d you have to fight? Why did there have to be an assassin in the games? Why any of it?”
“I expect my father will have a better answer to the latter,” he muttered. “Or my mother, for that matter. I can’t believe Gallard shot me. After putting myself in danger for him… I’ve never known any bird to have so little honor. Even a slave.”
His eyes lingered on the offerings as he said that. They’d been piled up so high around the bed that he could barely even see the floor in places. “I guess I’ve had a lot of visitors.”
“Uh…” Starlight Glimmer looked away. “We got all these before we left. New Scythia was mourning for you.”
Velar couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he hadn’t been so stupid after all. There was honor left. Enough that Accipio could recognize it when they saw it, even if they hadn’t demonstrated any. “Left… for where?” he eventually asked. “A pony hospital? There’s nowhere in New Scythia like this.” He held one of his forelegs closer to his head, the one that had the almost invisible tube running into it. “How do you get glass blown so fine without shattering it?”
“It’s not glass,” Starlight muttered, dismissive. “It’s called plastic, a chemist came up with it a few…” She shook her head. “Don’t you dare think you’re getting out of this by asking stupid questions, you completely idiotic bird!” She stood over him, glowering. “You’ve been on the edge of death for almost a week now. You have an entire troop of personal guards—maybe you could’ve asked one of them to fight for you?”
Velar tried to keep his smile unbroken, but it was difficult. It was becoming difficult just to stay sitting. It felt like his guts were going to come unraveled and spill all over the table if he moved too quickly. They just might.
“There’s no honor in that, Starlight Glimmer. A general must demand nothing of his birds that he would not do himself. There’s no honor in asking someone else to fight in a cause you think is just. If you think it’s a good cause, you get down into the dirt and prove it.”
He coughed, and found himself regurgitating a disgusting ball of slime and black blood. Starlight levitated a cloth for him to hack into, which he did for nearly a minute straight, his whole body shaking.
“Is there water somewhere in this hospital?” he asked, once he’d recovered his voice enough to speak again. “I feel like my throat is dissolving.”
“Here.” Starlight Glimmer offered him a bottle, made of the same strange, clear substance as the tubes. But there was water inside, and it soothed some of the pain in his throat. He stopped complaining. “You can’t do solid food for… a while,” Starlight said. “I’ll get your doctor in here in a minute, he can explain.”
Velar immediately stiffened, his whole body freezing. “You trusted my life to a male doctor? Unity grant he didn’t leave a knife sewed up in my gut or something.”
“No.” Starlight stomped one hoof on the floor. It sounded like metal. “This is Equestria, Velar. We don’t have any room for your barbaric, backwards way of splitting ponies off. Maybe it’s worked well enough for birds, but…” She took a deep breath. “Dr. Stables and his team saved your life, Velar. Along with a few others.”
“You,” he supplied, though it was becoming too painful to sit up anymore. He lowered himself back onto the bed, heedless of the indignity. There was no honor in ripping his stitches open. “You’re the reason I’m here. In… Equestria. My family must’ve been desperate to allow this. But when I return home, I’m sure it will go a long way to strengthening our relationship with Equestria.”
Starlight sighed, staring out the window. “It’s too bad we can’t put that relationship into surgery and stitch it back together.”
“What?” Velar couldn’t sit up, but he did watch her. “What are you talking about? Did something happen after I was shot?”
“Something happened before, stupid!” She didn’t even look at him anymore. “You tricked us into letting you keep ponies enslaved! Do you have any idea how upsetting that is to Equestria? I wasn’t just sulking that day I didn’t come to the tournament, I was communicating with the princesses. They gave an ultimatum—to release every single pony slave, or else.”
Velar didn’t laugh. The very idea of such a request was ludicrous to him—but he could see from Starlight’s expression that ponies did not see the humor in it. “They said no, obviously. What was the else? A war? Am I a… prisoner?”
Starlight shook her head. He could see there were tears there—though he couldn’t imagine why. He couldn’t reach out to try and comfort her anyway, so there was nothing to do but watch. And feel guilty, knowing he was probably responsible. “We severed diplomatic ties. Recalled every Equestrian citizen living in the territory, barred entry for every griffon. Terminated trade. Everything, until the princess’s demands are met.”
Velar shivered. The first few provisions would be annoying—but trade meant food, food that the other cities were growing badly. New Scythia had plenty of food, but only because of the ponies helping them. Now that they’d been taken away, it was only another season before they were in the same position as all the other birds. And in the meantime—it sounded like the ponies had just planted a crop of their own. The seeds of a war.
The next few hours of travel were less eventful for Velar than he would have expected. Once the doctor had arrived and inspected his wounds, Starlight explained that she would take some much-needed rest. She would return here once they arrived in Canterlot, to help with his transfer to the hospital there.
“How long am I going to be like this?” he asked, to the pony he trusted, not the doctor.
Starlight only shrugged. “I’ve never seen someone get a bullet in the chest before. Not until the doctors say it’s safe for you to move around. I know they put in two-dozen thaumic sutures to hold your gut together—that’s more than if you’d had open-heart surgery.”
“Heart surgery. You mean… killed?” Velar couldn’t quite comprehend what she was implying. Heart wounds were fatal, he knew that.
“No, it’s…” Starlight struggled for words, the same way she often did whenever she had something that radically separated their cultures to try and explain. “Well, sometimes a foal’s heart isn’t shaped right. Sometimes older ponies have trouble with their hearts. An open-heart surgery is when doctors cut the pony open, then stop the heart so they can work on it. They use a complicated spell to keep the pony’s blood moving… and you have no idea what I’m talking about.”
Velar was indeed staring at her with incredulity, but not because he hadn’t heard her. “There’s no way. I know that Equestrian ponies are capable of magic, but that… that’s impossible. You couldn’t cut someone to the heart and expect them to survive.”
“That’s what your necromancer said about healing your shot to the stomach,” Starlight answered, a little of her old wit returning to her voice. “But here you are.”
“We can heal it just fine,” he argued. “It’s just… there’s a price. A price I wasn’t willing to pay. I appreciate the old magic, but I was raised in house Virtue. There’s no virtue in asking someone else to die for me.”
Starlight looked away from him. It looked like she was on the edge of tears, though Velar couldn’t imagine why. “No, there isn’t. You did the right thing.” She left, then.
Velar got a few more visitors in the next few days. Mostly doctors and nurses. They would wash him, or feed him, or check on his bandages, and be surprisingly polite about the whole thing. He caught a few dark remarks about necromancy here and there, generally mixed with whispered praise for having refused it. He learned from one nurse that it had been a matter of some pride for the surgeon, who had worked for no less than twenty-two straight hours sewing his insides back up.
Velar asked to see the stallion to thank him in person, as was the virtuous thing to do. Eventually the unicorn arrived—almost as tall as a griffon but probably a forth the weight, looking like not enough pony stretched over too many bones. “I owe you a debt of blood,” Velar said, as soon as he arrived. “For your service to me and house Velar. I intend to repay.”
The doctor, Stables, shook his head incredulously. “If you want to pay me back, when you go back to that city, you can tell the other barbarians that we aren’t living in the dark ages anymore. Tell them they can keep their blood in their bodies and still get the treatment they need.” He left without much else exchanged between them, leaving Velar dissatisfied. That was insufficient repayment, to be sure. He would have to find some other way—something to give to the doctor or at least Equestria in general worth the weight of an heir’s life. His father would probably know the way.
But Velar couldn’t get in touch with him. The mail service, like everything else between Equestria and Accipio, had been suspended until every remaining pony in griffon territory was released. Where Starlight Glimmer had been polite and understanding, Princess Celestia was ruthless and absolute. She required nothing less than submission on the matter of her subjects. Velar wondered what her demands had been, wondered what his royal parents would do, but he could not ask.
That left him in a difficult position in more ways than that, and he knew it. Technically, griffons were being required to return to the territory they’d been given, and would not be able to leave again until they proved that they personally owned no pony slaves. Velar owned nothing personally, but his house must have owned thousands of slaves. Some of them were bound to be ponies. He knew of a few pegasus messengers that his father employed to deliver the most urgent communication between his generals. Their ability to do so even through the most dangerous weather made them even better for it than griffon messengers would be.
And now they weren’t going to be allowed in his household anymore, because some Equestrian princess who didn’t understand their ways thought an arbitrary word on the end of their name meant they weren’t respected? The ponies were so ignorant it infuriated him. They were so powerful—they could apparently even repair a damaged heart without killing the one who suffered—yet they didn’t understand the most basic way to tie a society together.
He even tried to explain it to Starlight Glimmer when she next came to visit, using much more detail and patience than he ever had before. It was a subject not suited for polite conversation, but they’d long since gone beyond that.
“Look—being called a slave is just another way for a non-relative to have a place in a great house. A pony who lived in Accipio alone could be a freeman, but that would mean no representation in big decisions, no protection from new laws, no ability to do business with most of the houses that would be their best clients.
“So he could join one of those houses—sell himself and his services. Suddenly he’d be represented. He’d have a lord to look out for his interests, to protect him from unfair laws, to negotiate contracts with other clients. If you forced us to free him, his life would get worse, not better. I know you’re well-meaning… but you haven’t thought about what you’re asking for will actually do.”
Starlight Glimmer had been unmoved. “Maybe there are some like that,” she said. “But are you telling me every slave in Accipio likes where they are? Are you really going to say the ones mucking gutters and digging ditches want to be there?”
The answer to that question was obvious, and they both knew it. It wasn’t an argument he could win.
The Stalwart Stratus stopped more than once, though no one would tell Velar why or how long it would be until they arrived. He could see guards outside his door, too—they weren’t standing right outside, but they were always visible, always within reach. The ponies who watched him did so as though they were afraid he might change his mind and try to fight his way out at any moment.
He didn’t, obviously. They hadn’t broken the treaty—neither side had, though the ponies seemed to have some disagreement on that point. So far as he knew, his father had no intention of breaking it either. When they gave their word, that was the end. Ponies were strange creatures—to Velar, finding out whether a prisoner was going to try and escape was as simple as asking them. If they wouldn’t answer, or said that they would, you guarded them. Otherwise, you could save resources and they could save face.
Even a house Vengeance bird could be trusted to keep their word, so far as the words they used. Manipulating you into thinking they had promised more than they actually did, however…
Are we any better? We basically did that to Equestria to stop from giving up our pony slaves.
After a few more days and a few more stops, Velar got his first visitor who wasn’t a doctor or Starlight Glimmer.
She entered completely unannounced, without fanfare or guards. Princess Celestia strode through his door, flanked by a few frightened-looking soldiers who were soon shut on the other side. Princess Celestia hadn’t brought anyone with her. No advisors, no guards.
It was a very griffon thing to do, and Velar found he instantly respected her for it. What kind of weakling would need guards to see a bird who had been stitched together by magic and still owed you a life debt? Not Princess Celestia.
Velar tried to sit up in his bed, or at least look a little more respectable. He couldn’t sit up—even if he wasn’t tied down anymore, he was still weak. Motion that was too sudden was very likely to tear something.
Princess Celestia saw his attempt, and raised a dismissive wing. “No need, Prince Velar. I understand the injuries you have suffered. The greatest respect you can give me is to tell the truth.”
“I always do that,” he said, without malice. “There’s no virtue in deception. A lie warps the world we live in, and eventually warps the one who tells it. Only what is true is virtuous.” He didn’t bother correcting her about his name—ponies seemed to need their titles. It would probably be easier for her if she thought he had one too.
Princess Celestia didn’t say anything to that, not for a long time. Eventually she sat back on her haunches, sighing deeply. “It is a shame we have come to this. I had hoped—your father seemed so determined for peace. He seemed determined to cooperate with Equestria. This is the story Starlight Glimmer told me.”
“It’s the truth!” he exclaimed, without hesitation. “We’ve followed all of your instructions! We’ve done everything we could to make sure the treaty was implemented faithfully!”
Princess Celestia glared at him. “You promised me the truth, Velar. Yet already you say things I know cannot be true. You did not implement the treaty faithfully—you tricked us into accepting something that Equestria simply can’t abide. We were so concerned with supervising the climate that we neglected the weakest and most defenseless members of our species. This is a mistake we intend to correct, promptly.”
“I fear you may need to go to war for it, Princess,” Velar said, his voice as flat as anything else he’d said so far. It wasn’t a threat. “The citizens of Accipio have already given up the majority of their wealth. For many families, a single slave would be all they owned. The result of many years of struggling and saving. Asking a family like mine to give up one slave in fifty is nothing. But what if that slave is all they have?”
Princess Celestia was as unmoved as he was. “War is something Equestria does not desire. But we refuse to accept this condition for our ponies. Our society protects its members.” She met his eyes with a glare. “We have already suspended trade with all griffon territory, and recalled every pony working there. We have sent back every griffon who was visiting Equestria. Will these measures be sufficient to convince your father to part with his slaves?”
Velar shook his head. “You could march into his house and ask him to give up one of its rooms, and you would have more success.”
“That’s what you expected of us,” Celestia replied. “Equestria gave you what you asked. We wish to resolve this peacefully, if we can. A war is something neither side can afford. Every laborer who is killing isn’t growing food, and harvests are slim. How many slaves do you think there are, across all griffon territory?”
Velar thought about it. “Perhaps… ten thousand. In each of the clans’ territory. Four times that across every city.”
“Forty thousand,” Princess Celestia repeated, looking away. “It is a good thing my subjects do not know of this. They would not give me the choice of war, Velar. I don’t think griffons appreciate how unacceptable this is. I know from Starlight Glimmer that you are wiser than you seem, or at least your family is. Find me a way to prevent a war.”
“Buy them?” Velar suggested.
The Equestrian princess turned away from him, obviously frustrated. “We considered that. But your prices for slaves aren’t based on the market, they’re arbitrary. Apparently chosen to make it impossible for any of them to earn their freedom. Buying that many would cost more than a city. Even if we had the gold in all the treasuries of Equestria, more than that would starve as a result. It is not possible.”
Velar shook his head. “You asked for the truth, Princess of Equestria. I tell you the truth—the great houses will not give up their slaves for nothing. If you want them that badly, you must take them. It is the only way.”
Gina realized there was a little bias there. Vengeance was the clan that took in many of her former house. They had been the ones always at odds with Virtue. From the point of view of a civil servant like herself, who was privy to the machinations of the empress and her husband, it seemed as though the world might be peaceful and prosperous forever if only Vengeance would just submit to imperial authority and do what they were told.
Of course the assassin would’ve come from that house. Naturally Gabriel escaped any culpability for his attempted murder, and since the slave had been slain by Velar’s overzealous guards, they would never be able to perform the interrogation that might link him to the clan lord.
That was bad enough—though not terribly unexpected. Clan Vengeance was named for good reason, and everyone expected them to try something after the death of the last lord. Murdering the emperor’s son was exactly the way they behaved.
But that hadn’t been it. An angry missive from Equestria had arrived the day before, informing the Emperor that not all official presence of Accipian citizens in Equestria had ended.
Unbeknownst to all of them, house Vengeance had somehow managed to weave itself a contract with the exiles of house Endurance, and now had a presence in their land.
It was just Gina’s luck that she would be the bird to deal with it.
Emperor Gaius appointed her richly for the trip, with one of the fastest sloops and a half-dozen of his own personal guard. Gina had her own guards of course, and every one of her staff insisted on going. Even Isabel.
“You need an edge,” the unicorn argued, a few hours before they were due to leave. “The Vengeance birds will find a way to knife you over this… or maybe the emperor through you. But they won’t have a unicorn on their side.”
“Isabel…” It was painful to speak about such matters to one of the slaves that had become her friends. Any reminder of the gulf that separated them was unpleasant, and so she brought it up as little as possible. “Isabel, there are laws. Equestrians are… unhappy with the way we do things. We are certain to be searched by the ponies. What will they do when they find you aboard?” Do you think so little of my house that you would want to escape it?
But there was no guile in the unicorn, at least none that she could see. Gina trusted this pony with her life. “I don’t care about their laws! They demand I’m thrown out of your house because of words. Because I am paid less. More likely they’re jealous of my skills and want to force me to work for them!” She stomped one hoof, shaking her head dismissively. A thin silver chain clinked lightly as she did so. “I won’t let them take me away. If I have to lie and say that I work for you instead, it will only be a small lie. Ponies love to believe little lies.”
The truth was, Gina agreed with the need. Vengeance was a determinedly prideful house, perhaps the most prideful house that survived into present day. They would never rely on the talents of other races for anything they couldn’t do themselves. It would seem like a position of weakness to them. That would make them easy targets.
“I can’t wait,” she said. “Even if I would rather hire a pony wizard for the trip… they wouldn’t be as good as you are, and I couldn’t trust them. We’ll have to do it.”
“Your trust isn’t misplaced,” Isabel said. “You’ll see. When we get to that exile city, you’ll be glad you brought me.”
Gina had never commanded an entire ship before. Well—technically the ship’s captain was one of the emperor’s guards. But he answered to her in anything other than war. It was a diplomatic mission, in a way.
The ponies were furious about some esoterica in the treaty—Gina wasn’t much for that kind of politics. But simple instructions were easier. The ponies wanted Accipians out of Equestria until the griffons did something, and she was the one who had to make it happen.
She carried more than just her guards. Her writ of authority from the emperor was the most strongly-worded document she’d ever carried. The sanctions Vengeance would be subjected to if her instructions were not obeyed were incredibly severe.
Some part of her hoped she wasn’t obeyed. Even if that was likely to hurt her career, it would hurt Lord Santiago more. That bird more than deserved it.
They crossed the northern border just after dawn, sailing rather than using one of the chemical engines. Sails were at the mercy of the wind and weather, but they also didn’t fill the sky with noise and a trail of black smoke that was visible for hundreds of miles. Technically the ponies didn’t want any griffons in their territory, so it was best not to make a show of things. If they needed the speed, they could always switch them on, but sometimes it was good to ride a ship with both, just in case.
Emperor Gaius did not want this mission to become a contest of wills between the ponies as well as the great houses. Let them appear timid in at least that respect.
“It’s so green,” Isabel said from beside her, watching from the skydeck. “I thought the desert must continue forever. I guess their whole world doesn’t look like New Scythia.”
“It gets greener the further you go,” she said, watching the sky more than the ground. Another airship had joined them a few miles back, and was slowly gaining. It had no sails but made no smoke, so there was no doubt over whose ship it was. At least they hadn’t started blasting magic at the Lapwing. “Just wait until you see Griffonstone. It looks more like Scythia—mountains and hills and forests. Not like where they banished us.”
“They’re so spread out. All those little villages… how do you think they stay in contact with the empire?”
“I don’t think they do,” Gina muttered. She smiled slightly as she said it. “Accipio has something like these too. The nobility has lesser lords under them who have freeman or slaves who work the land. The only part of the empire that matters to them is the will of the noble they answer to, and maybe the commands of their clan lord. He’s the emperor to them, as much as they’ll ever know.”
Isabel shrugged. “Ponies don’t have that kind of nobility, do they? I can’t imagine why anyone would work the land out here if they weren’t forced to. What keeps their society from falling apart?”
“I have no idea,” Gina answered honestly. “I’ve only ever seen Manehattan up close. When I was a fledgeling, I… toured it. With my family.” She spoke quietly then, more respectfully. She spoke very seldom of those days, particularly in the presence of slaves. It was taboo to speak of the dead too much to someone of a lower class, lest your ancestors think they were being disrespected.
“What keeps ponies working in the cities, then? The princess’s ruthless magic?”
For the second time, Gina could only shrug. “If Manehattan was a griffon city, I would’ve expected riots. Some ponies had so much, and others had so little, yet they were all citizens. I know I would never tolerate what they suffered through.” She looked away, back towards the helm. “Captain Hookbeak, is that Equestrian ship still gaining on us?”
The wily old bird was graying in most of his feathers, and he only had one eye. But he was also one of the most skilled airmen in all of Accipio. Gina didn’t doubt he could outrun the sun itself if he had to.
Hookbeak took off, gliding down to the skydeck after only a single moment in the air. Flying while riding the deck of an airship was an exceptionally dangerous game—it was easy to forget the wind. The wind would not forget you, though. As many an unfortunate bird had discovered when they bashed their skull open against the mast, or if they were lucky, just got left behind to chase vainly after the retreating ship.
“That’s a destroyer. They’re the new additions to the Equestrian navy, only been in service since a year or so ago. They’re the Equestrian answer to our dreadnaughts, so they say. Some kinda magic weapon. Never seen one fire though.”
“Will they shoot us down? We’re flying the emperor’s flag, we’re headed straight for Griffonstone…”
“It’s not like ponies to shoot first,” Hookbeak answered, with an indifferent shrug of his wings. “I’ve never heard of them just shooting a ship down. Plus, a little sloop like the Lapwing, it’s got to be obvious at this distance we aren’t a warship.”
“Can you lose them?”
Hookbeak thought about it. He stuck out one wing, letting the wind glide over it. He glanced at the crew, then at the sail. “I could. But only because we’re headed north. The skymaps we bought are pretty clear in that fact. We’ll be going against the wind all the way back. It might be best just to let them board us and search whatever they plan on searching.”
Gina glanced to one side, at where Isabel was standing. The unicorn was not wearing her slave chain, not anymore. But they weren’t sure it would really fool anyone. “They haven’t signaled for us to stop, have they?”
Hookbeak glanced over his shoulder again, apparently searching for something. When he didn’t see it, he turned back. “Nope. No flags, no flares. I suspect they’re just trying to show us they know we’re here. Maybe they’ll follow us the whole way, making sure we’re above board.”
“We are,” she said, though it wasn’t true. “Captain, I want you to lose them. Obey them if they signal, but I bet they won’t. If they haven’t done it so far, they probably plan on showing off just how much faster they are. Let’s teach them a thing about what a bird can do with Unity’s help.”
Hookbeak saluted with one claw to his chest. “As the imperator commands.” He raised his voice. “Crew to the decks! Every bird at their posts! Raise the port sail! Prepare to—” And other sailor talk. Gina stopped listening to him.
“We should probably get below,” she said to the Unicorn. “If the Lapwing really gets going, it could knock us overboard. Not a big problem for me, but…”
“You don’t think I could learn to teleport on the way down?” Isabel asked, a sly grin on her face. She didn’t argue, though, and followed Gina below.
They watched from the windows in her quarters near the stern as the pony war ship with its magical engines fell further and further away on the horizon. It felt like the birds must be using some kind of magic themselves, though Gina couldn’t see it. It was the magic of experience, of competence. The blessing of their ancestors could overcome any obstacle, including ponies with magic.
“I knew it,” Isabel said, once the distant ship had fallen completely from view. “They couldn’t catch a crew this good. None of those ponies know what they’re doing like we do.”
“Maybe not,” Gina agreed. “But they’re going to talk to someone who does. I don’t think we’ll escape inspection both ways.”
“I can lie,” Isabel said again. “Don’t worry about it. You’re in Equestria, I’ll just say you hired me to tell you where to go. Won’t be anything to it.”
“That’s assuming that Vengeance doesn’t eat us alive,” she said. She trailed off. “Griffonstone. We’re about to see what would happen to Accipio if we let ponies have their way with us. Uh… no offence to you.”
“Don’t lump me in with them,” Isabel said, without offence. “I have a backbone, they don’t. Everything these birds lost, my ancestors gained. It is a trade I’d make again. Sometimes I wonder if the rest of Equestria might not be better off the same way. But I haven’t seen it yet, so… I’ll wait. Maybe one of these days I’ll get to see a pony city for myself, and I’ll know.”
“It’s possible,” Gina said, though she didn’t sound confident. “Things looked bad enough before Lord Santiago found a way to slip into Equestrian territory. If we can’t get his house to leave, it might be worse.”
“Imperator Gina!” called a young voice from the doorway. Captain’s Mate Gary, an adorable bird with all his limbs and all the color in his feathers. “We’re approaching Griffonstone. Captain says you should get on deck, there’s a delegation waiting for us. Looks like they’re armed.”
“Here we go.” She rose to her claws, and was unsurprised to see Isabel standing beside her. “Let’s see if we can prevent a war.”
Gina knew this wasn’t going to be easy the instant she saw the griffons flying up from the city below. The settlement called Griffonstone was every bit as pathetic as the stories she’d heard, at least most of it was. There was new construction off on one side, a walled quarter that looked to be slowly growing. Smoke rose from some of the buildings there, and it seemed that was also the direction from which the newly arriving birds had flown.
Much more important than any change to the city, though, was the state of the birds leaving it. They weren’t just armed. In some ways, any bird old enough to sharpen their claws was armed. These birds had rifles. Metal rifles, polished sparkling and in the latest designs. Gina knew without knowing how she knew that there was no chance these guns could predate the treaty. Griffonstone was an indolent, decadent place, without previous contact since the entire clan had been defeated by Equestria. They would not have imported the guns, or learned their design from Accipio.
House Vengeance hadn’t just bent the treaty by coming here, or defied the will of the Alicorns by staying here. They’d made firearms. The very central tenet of the Pyroclastic Peace Accord was shattered here on a valley floor.
The smoke rising from below, the smoke smelling like sulfur—that would be the forges.
A bird landed on the deck of the Lapwing, his armor sparkling in the orange sunlight. None of these birds had actually drawn their rifles, but wore them all holstered. Signs of pride in what they’d done. Gina did not recognize any of them, though she did recognize the symbols on their armor. They were all religious symbols, of the sacred order of Unity. These were not soldiers at all, but monks.
Indeed, as she approached, their leader dropped into a bow before her, exposing his unprotected throat for a moment. It was the proper symbol of submission due to one wearing the imperial seal. She didn’t see any smugness on his face, either, or any pride at having defied the imperial will. The entire expedition was similar. They weren’t here to defend this place, not when none of them had drawn those rifles.
“Welcome to the Griffonstone Temple of Unity,” said the same monk who had bowed to her. “I am Gideon, I’m the hierodeacon here. I admit, I am surprised to see visitors here after Equestria chose such isolationist policies. I suppose they did not maintain them for long, eh?”
Gina stiffened a little. She glanced once over her shoulder to Isabel, and checked to see that Hogarth was on deck as well. One unicorn would not be enough against odds like this if it really came to violence. But she doubted it would, not with the way they were acting. Gina had no mind for war. Even so, she could tell that landing when they had the advantage of superior weapons was probably a bad idea.
“Wait, you know about the princess’s demands, and you’re still here?” Gina asked, making a note of that admission. In front of so many witnesses, too. It would not go well for them at trial.
“I think this is the wrong place for this conversation,” Gideon said. “Please, come back to Griffonstone with us. Your crew will be weary and your ship in need of supply. I know there are no more friendly ports all the way to New Scythia. Let me direct your captain to the dock.”
“You already built a dock?” Hookbeak asked, sounding impressed in spite of himself. “Out here surrounded by barbarians and exiles?”
Gideon nodded. Gina could see a few of the birds watching wince at those words, or stiffen with anger. Not all of these are from Vengeance, are they? We need to be careful what we say. Already she was beginning to see what Vengeance had done. Maybe Santiago hadn’t broken the treaty after all.
Just like we didn’t break it with pony slaves? I don’t think Equestria will be any happier about this than they were about the slaves. If anything, it would only be more evidence to them that griffons couldn’t be trusted to keep to the spirit of their words. More evidence that they couldn’t peacefully coexist.
“That sounds good to me, Captain,” Gina said, before captain Hookbeak was forced to answer for her. By sacred custom, an invitation to dock was as good as a guarantee of peace until they left port. Such traditions protected valuable ports and ships both, since powder magazines could destroy whole docks and kill many birds. The days of such guerilla tactics were over, even in house Vengeance. Though I wouldn’t put it past them to try and blow us up on our way out again.
“Excellent!” Gideon gestured, and most of the birds took to the air. “Return to your duties, all of you. I will direct this vessel.” Alone, Gina noticed. He would be easy to overpower now, even as the only one with a “real” weapon aboard. Well, except for Gina. She had Isabel. Yet he made his way to the helm without fear, trusting to the sacred tradition as much as they were.
Good. Guess this place is civilized after all.
Gina watched from the bow as they made their way down towards the city. There were signs that Griffonstone had been greater than it was—stone buildings that had slowly sunk into the sediment, replaced with cruder wooden structures. A great palace modeled on the work of the ancient master-stonemason Hadrianus, looking dark and abandoned and seriously in need of repair.
But then there was the monastery—or temple, as Gideon had called it. Temples were more than simple monasteries—to be called a temple, somewhere had to be so self-sufficient that it could survive with the gates closed for a year. Temples were also sacred places, which were not turned over to a conqueror in war even if the entire city fell. Indeed, if a bird counted every temple, there were over a dozen of the clans still surviving, with many defeated birds living on through service to Unity. Her own clan had such a temple—burned with the rest of Accipio now.
The docks were on the temple grounds, along with so much else. She had been right about the forge, but there were also large farms, a whole factory, and several shipping warehouses. What are they making in here? How much of it gets sent back to Accipio?
Gideon would have to answer some of those questions, but not all of them. “I can’t help but notice the weapon you’re carrying,” Gina said, as they slowed to approach the docks. There was only enough room for two airships here, neither one much larger than their own. That spoke to the amount of traffic through here. It was no center of trade yet. “Aren’t rifles forbidden by the Pyroclastic Accord?”
Gideon smiled knowingly at her. “You’ll find the exact words are different, Imperator…”
“Gina,” she answered.
“Gina, right. Well, if you’ve read the treaty, you’ll find that it requires that no bird bring firearms from Accipio, and that no Accipian freeman, citizen, or slave make or buy them. That no ship be armed with cannons.”
Gina’s eyes narrowed, staring at the gun, but she said nothing. The implication was obvious. Then what’s that?
“These weapons were not brought from the old territory—you can see the new design.” He removed the rifle from its strap, turning it over for her. No sign of hostility or violence, or defensiveness. Gideon thought he was well within the law, and completely secure in doing so. He removed the weapon's magazine, exposing the symbol stamped into the steel. “See here? That’s no house mark. That’s Griffonstone.” He gestured over his shoulder as they thumped against the dock. “This temple. Not one of these weapons was made by citizen, freeman, or slave of Accipio. Griffonstone birds made every one of them, and graciously gave them to us in gratitude for all we’ve done for their city. They were not purchased.” He returned the rifle to its strap. “As you can see, we have not violated the treaty. House Vengeance is a house of honor, the ponies had no reason to worry we would abuse their trust.”
Gina barely restrained a bitter laugh. He was right, though—there was no mistaking the reading. This was not a scenario the ponies had put into the treaty, even though it was obviously counter to what they wanted. They’re not going to like this.
“I’m here on official business, I’m afraid,” Gina said, removing the seal from around her neck and holding it out towards Gideon. He took it, ran one claw over the imperial seal, then passed it back.
“Indeed. It is unexpected to receive an officer as high as yourself. Will you join us for a meal before we speak of this? I can gather all the temple elders together. You can instruct us then.”
“Sure.” She secured the medallion around her neck again. “My crew could use the rest after our journey here.” She hesitated a second, glancing between the members of her staff that she’d brought. “But when your tour is complete, instruct the elders I want to have the meeting here, aboard the Lapwing. Not in the monastery. We will speak only of your success here during the meal.”
“Of course,” Gideon said. If he was put off, he managed not to show it.
So the crew disembarked—the birds did, anyway. As this was a sacred place, none of the non-griffons would be allowed to depart. Gina donned the traditional robes with the others, and followed Gideon for a tour of his temple. He was proud to show it off, and she could see why. The exiles were the ones who did most of the work here. They were succeeding with remarkable speed, taking to the old Accipian ways without much resistance. It was an impressive transformation; one Gina would’ve admired if they weren’t being used to make firearms.
Despite the struggles in the south, they ate fresh vegetables and even more freshly caught river-trout for dinner, served with almost the same spices they would’ve been in her homeland. Gina met many of the monks, and learned that most of them were exiles. Every master craftsman who was not an exile had one or two apprentices who were, and whose work showed serious promise.
Most of them wanted to talk to her. They’d all heard of the emperor, and seemed to see him as an analogue to the princesses. That was true, in its way. She did her best to tell them only the truth about the royal family, and all the good it had done. Many expressed a desire to visit New Scythia when they got the chance, and to study in the temple there. She could only express her approval for such a righteous goal, and her wonder that such a significant change had taken only a few months.
Eventually, they found their way back aboard the Lapwing. Unlike the various monks, the elders were all from house Vengeance. She recognized several of them from the temple there. “I have bad news for all of you,” she said. “We will not be allowed to remain here. Every citizen of Accipio is being recalled. The Equestrians will not tolerate us here.”
“This is not their land,” answered Gideon, as though he had expected this. None of the other elders had weapons—Gideon was apparently also the master marksman of this temple, which was why he carried a rifle. “This is Griffonstone. They cannot banish us from here.”
“Unfortunately not,” Gina said. “Griffonstone is bound by pony laws. They did not cede the land to the exiles as they did to us—these birds settled here as conquered foes, not a pacified enemy committed to mutual peace. They require that every one of you leave the city immediately. I was afraid the Lapwing would not be large enough, but seeing your numbers… there are less than half as many as I expected. You will prepare tonight and leave with me come sunrise.” She rested one claw on the royal seal, tapping against it. “If Lord Santiago objects, he can raise that objection with the emperor. This is his decree.”
A murmur of discontent passed through the elders, though Gina couldn’t help getting the sense that some of it was for show. They didn’t even argue with her.
“It is a hard thing to leave so soon,” Gideon said. “Perhaps you would grant us leave to prepare until noon, instead?”
Imperial demands were required to be obeyed within the day they were received. But technically, she hadn’t told them about it until now. They could’ve insisted on not leaving until midnight tomorrow. “That is acceptable,” she said. “I want a list of every name in this monastery, signed and sworn. Not one of you will be remaining here after we leave.” She lowered her voice. “We’ve already done enough to anger the Equestrians. We will not defy them in this too.”
“Of course,” Gideon said, putting up one defensive claw. “We are always ready to obey the commands of the emperor. This temple can continue without us.”
“You really think we’re gonna find somewhere for the griffons to live all the way out here?” Applejack asked. Her voice was obviously skeptical, and Twilight could see why. Past the Crystal Empire, the north was an absolute wasteland. Twilight had never seen this land before the great eruption, though something told her global cooling had only made it worse. Their little balloon struggled to stay airborne, and probably would’ve fallen right out of the sky if it wasn’t for the magic protecting it.
She looked for signs of life—forests would be ideal, since that would mean large scale life. But she saw nothing.
The yaks lived up here, though far, far to the east. From what she’d seen of their society, they barely weathered these winters. How a species with much less natural insulation and no wilderness farming experience would do up here… Twilight Sparkle could already tell they were doomed.
Twilight sighed, slumping against the side of her basket. “There were stories… back when the Crystal Empire was actually an empire, instead of just one city—they had a whole network of magic keeping the north from getting this cold. I was hoping we might be able to find some of it. Now that the Crystal Heart is back, we could probably switch it back on. That would give the griffons somewhere to live that isn’t in our territory.”
“North, south…” Rainbow Dash settled in beside her, trying to hide her shivering inside a thick jacket. Even the pegasus was having trouble up here. Her other friends weren’t doing much better—poor Fluttershy looked like she’d been eaten alive by a monster made of wool and white fluff. Only Applejack wore nothing more than usual, apparently staying warm on pure stubbornness. “I don’t see the difference. Why is putting them up here better than keeping them down there?”
“Because, dear,” Rarity began, not actually moving from her own warm perch below a small mountain of blankets. Spike was in there too, somewhere. “Because the land here would be fertile, if only we could warm it up. And if we did warm it, everypony living here would depend on the Crystal Heart to stay warm. The griffons simply couldn’t do anything barbaric, because as soon as they did the Heart would stop working and they’d all freeze.”
“I don’t like it,” Applejack said, to nopony in particular. Icicles had formed along her back, and snow had stuck in her tail and mane, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Trickin’ them birds up here with better land and then holdin’ em hostage just don’t seem right to me. Both sides trickin’ each other like this will get somepony hurt. Later, if not sooner.”
“It wasn’t our first choice,” Twilight said, frowning slightly at the truth in Applejack’s words. But so far as she could see it, the griffons were the ones being deceitful, and they had been from the beginning. Equestria had its demands, and they had made them clear from the start. Apparently they’d been asking too much for the birds to tolerate, but at least they had been honest about it. That was more than she could say for the birds. “But we know most of their homeland isn’t livable anymore. We already know they have enough airships to move their whole population around. If we just dump them on a shore covered with ash where all the plants are dead, they’ll fly straight back looking for blood.”
General acknowledgement from her friends. At least they could see sense. If only the griffons could be so easily convinced. “The dragon lands aren’t being used that much, but there’s no convincing Ember of that. She says if refugees show up there, they’ll eat them.” Twilight shivered at the thought. It was hard to tell when the dragon was being facetious about such a claim. Plenty of ponies had died that way, in ancient history. Griffons must not taste all that different.
“There’s something down there,” interrupted Rainbow Dash, pointing with one wing.
Twilight followed her gaze, and after a few seconds of staring she could just make out what her friend had been talking about. There, rising just above the snow, was a crystal spire of brilliant pink with a clear stone set into its top. She had taken it for a large hunk of ice, but the cut was too perfect. Not only that, but the snow didn’t seem to quite touch the crystal. It got very close, then stopped just above its surface as though prevented by an invisible barrier.
Twilight immediately vented some of the lift gas, guiding their balloon down towards the spire. Well, as best she could. “Give us a push, Rainbow,” she asked, hoping it sounded polite.
“Yeah, yeah.” She got out. “You’ve got wings too, princess.”
“Somepony’s got to steer,” she answered, smiling sheepishly. Her friend rolled her eyes, then took one of the ropes on the outside and started to pull. There was a chance that they could just ride the wind down to the ground, but if they did they could end up miles away. In snow that thick, a pony was likely to sink well past their head without the proper gear.
A few minutes later and they had touched down as close to the tower as they dared. “Alright, everypony. We need to get down through the snow. Any ideas?”
Rarity made a vague gesture from inside the blankets. “Maybe you should just teleport the snow away. It’s not like anypony will miss it.”
Twilight shook her head. “It isn’t that easy. I could teleport us down under the snow if I knew there was somewhere to send us to. But nopony really knows what these weather stations looked like. Even the crystal ponies don’t seem to remember very much.” Indeed, if there had been any weather station operators in the Crystal Empire, none of them had ever got their memories back. More likely those ponies had been on the outskirts, and so had been taken by Sombra while he was conquering things.
“We could melt our way down?” Applejack suggested. “I can see trees out there in the distance. We could start a big bonfire, let the heat work its way down…”
“That’s silly,” Pinkie Pie observed. “The water will just put our fire out. And while we’re trying to start it over and over again, we’ll just keep getting colder and colder.”
It was daytime now, and already Twilight could see that her friends would be in bad shape if they stayed down here past nightfall. But if we don’t get it switched back on before we leave, we might never find this place again.
“If this was a Daring Do book there’d be an entrance up here on top for us to find,” Rainbow Dash suggested. “Maybe we can look for some riddles or something along the outside, then climb down some stairs on the inside.”
Twilight doubted there would be many secret puzzles on something that had been a public utility a long time ago, but that didn’t mean her friend’s plan had no merit. “There might be some kind of access,” she agreed. “Crystal ponies didn’t have wings, so they probably needed a way to get out onto the roof to fix things. Let’s see what we can find.”
And they looked. Well, some of them looked. The others stayed on the hot-air-balloon, clustered around the burner that they used to heat the air. Twilight got progressively more worried as their last few hours of daylight went by, without much success. It was just starting to get dark by the time Fluttershy of all ponies found the way in. Hidden under a layer of ice, there was a hatch all frozen over. Twilight melted it with a careful spell, then opened the passage down into the crystal spire.
She had dark memories of spiral staircases like this, but at least it wasn’t filled with packed-in snow. “Rainbow, bring the rope ladder. Help everypony up here, and tell them to bring our supplies. We’ll make camp in here for the night.”
“Aye, princess!” She saluted, grinning mischievously as she did so. As she flew off, Twilight made her way down into the dark.
She expected Fluttershy to follow, but the pegasus stubbornly remained on the other side of the threshold. “You go ahead. I’ll wait for everypony else.”
Twilight shrugged, lighting her horn with a faint glow before diving off the steps. It was a surprisingly long way down, before the tower opened into a chamber that she found strikingly familiar. It reminded her of the crystal palace, with a central focus of transparent blue stone waiting to receive some important charm. Like the crystal heart, though this one was barely as tall as her hoof. So obviously not intended for the same thing. Twilight was right—there were no riddles, no traps, nothing like that. Just a few rooms with long-decayed furniture, though a few items had survived remarkably intact.
Anything made of wood had been dissolved to organic sludge, but the crystal empire had made its finer things out of rock. That was a little more enduring. She found one room that had more little stones in it than a jeweler’s shop, and even had equipment that would’ve fit well in one. Dozens and dozens of little cubbies, alongside polished magnifiers, and tiny metal hammers.
The more she saw, the more intimidated she felt. The Crystal Empire didn’t just make it warmer with these things… I bet they could control their weather as well as we can. There were markings on each little box, written in a script that Twilight couldn’t read. It was not the Crystal Empire’s language, which she’d picked up in little bits and pieces. It seemed more like a number system.
“Ooooooooh!” Rarity exclaimed from behind her, a second glow joining Twilight’s. She could make out other voices from behind her as well—her friends had arrived. “Quite the assortment of gemstones in here. Such pure crystals!”
“Don’t,” Twilight said, extending a wing to stop her. “It all stays here. Even if this weather station isn’t working anymore, there might be enough here to reverse engineer how it worked. Or… maybe it is still working.”
“Weather station?” Rainbow Dash walked up beside her, staring around at the little workbenches. They were arranged on the outside wall, so that each would be illuminated by a window. Through the window was only a view of solid blue. “This doesn’t look much like a weather station to me. Where are the moisture accumulators? Where’s the rainbow separator? I mostly worked delivery, but even I can tell you that this is all wrong.”
“It’s a different science,” Rarity cut in, before Rainbow could go on. “It’s closer to the way unicorns regulate Canterlot’s weather. Simply and elegantly.”
“You mean boring,” Rainbow said. “No passion to it, just the same rain or the same sun day after day.”
“Griffons didn’t even have that in Accipio,” Twilight muttered. “All we really have to do is make it warmer. I’m guessing we can put one of these gems into the projector in the other room, then… it’ll come back on?”
“I like this one,” Pinkie Pie said, flouncing over with a bright yellow crystal covered in spines. “It looks like sunshine. We could use some sunshine.”
“Anypony have a better idea?”
Only these two had joined Twilight in the gem room—the others seemed to be setting up camp in the projection room.
“Okay, Pinkie. But be very gentle. The instant it seems like something is going wrong, we take it out again.”
Pinkie Pie was already out of the room by the time she finished speaking, settling the crystal into its waiting receptacle.
Twilight tensed, afraid that nothing at all would happen. That fear was in vain. The entire tower was instantly illuminated with bright blue, pouring in from where they’d entered down the empty central shaft around the stairs. Where it struck the condenser it was transformed to smooth, warm yellow, before being refracted up the structure of the tower itself.
Her friends all turned to stare, some of them making satisfied sounds as the warmth washed over them. Warm it certainly was—at least compared to the subzero nightmare outside. Not too far away, Twilight could hear the sound of ice cracking and shifting. Like they’d just made the ground itself angry.
“Well I’ll be,” Applejack muttered. “Got it on your first try.”
That was about when the door behind her exploded outward, and a torrent of water poured in.
Twilight Sparkle knew she didn’t have much time to act. Freezing water poured in from all around them, water that was cold enough to reach through her fur right to her soul the instant it touched. Much of this priceless relic was being destroyed in that contact, shelves knocked over, scrolls that had been preserved by the ice now being torn to shreds as that same ice melted.
Any thoughts of relief—that the artifact might still be working—would have to wait for the moment where her and her friends escaped with their lives.
Twilight projected a shield. Not a very large one—one of the simple ones, almost a parlor trick. The sort of shields her brother had insisted she learn by rote from her earliest years. She still couldn’t do them nearly as well as Shining could—but she didn’t need to. The water blasted away from her, and Twilight settled on clear ground again. She could hear screams—her friends, justifiably terrified as they were swept away.
Twilight took careful aim, and teleported Spike to land beside her. Applejack and Fluttershy came next, since they’d been in the room with her and were the easiest to reach. With each teleport, she made the shield a little bigger. But her concentration wasn’t infinite, and the room was filling with water. Once it carried the others out of sight, her chances of accurately targeting them were small.
Will the shield hold if this tower collapses on us?
She probably couldn’t have done it, except that her friends had all been gathered around to see the device in action. Twilight collapsed onto the ground, even as they were completely submerged. The light of the tower was twinged an even deeper blue by the water all around them. She felt herself shivering, felt the pressure against her shield, and knew that she didn’t have the energy for another teleport. If I drop this shield, we will all die.
“Woah.” Rainbow Dash nudged the edge of the bubble with one hoof, then quickly pulled it back. “Nice one, egghead.” She was the only one that hadn’t flopped wetly to the floor. The icy water had a way of sucking the energy out of a pony.
Twilight herself felt it. But she couldn’t give up. Even if I could hold the shield for hours, our air won’t last that long. The bubble wasn’t big. They’d have an hour at most, unless she did something drastic.
“Thanks,” she said, dropping to her haunches. But she didn’t dare lie down to rest, even for a moment. A shield was an easy spell to maintain, except for the weight of all the water pressing on her. This tower was tall, and water was heavy. “I can’t get us out of here, though. It’s… so hard just to keep us dry. If I try anything else, the bubble might pop.”
“Well, don’t try anything else then, darling. We’re all here, we can… solve this mystery together.”
“Easy peasy.” Rainbow looked around, scanning the room with attentive eyes. “This is straight out of Daring Do. Water traps are pretty common in her books. Except… she usually escapes before it gets this bad. She’s a pegasus, so she can’t just bubble herself like this and wait.”
“It’s not a trap,” Twilight said. “It’s just… a natural consequence of melting the ice. This tower must be somewhere real low, maybe at the bottom of a valley. The ice is melting and filling it.” Something didn’t seem quite right about that—the land hadn’t changed that much since the golden age of the Crystal Empire. But she wasn’t sure what else could explain this.
“I don’t see what the fuss is about.” Applejack gestured out of the bubble. “This thing is safe enough, right? Why don’t we just walk up the stairs and get out the way we got in?”
“Usually it’s because Ahuizotl locked us in,” Rainbow suggested. “Or because the floor caved in, or maybe there’s a sand golem blocking the exit.”
“Now what the hay is that?”
“I want to meet a sand golem!” Pinkie Pie offered, helpfully. “I bet my sister would really like that. A rock she could talk to… it would be like a dream come true!”
“I believe we should be more focused.” Rarity had somehow dried herself out, and was already recovering more of her poise. “Twilight, dear, is there any reason we can’t just walk our way out? Can this shield spell be moved?”
“Maybe.” Twilight shifted uneasily on her hooves. But the spell didn’t falter, even when she took a tentative step. It did take more of her concentration, though. If she moved the magic around, she wasn’t going to be able to help her friends with any other obstacles they encountered along the way. “I suppose so.”
“You could just do what you did with the breezies that time,” Rainbow Dash suggested. “You could make us all into seaponies, and we could swim out.”
“No.” Twilight shook her head vigorously. “I couldn’t even manage a light spell right now. If I tried to transfigure something, we might not survive.” She turned back towards the stairs. The tower still looked intact. Not only that, but it was still glowing blue, energy still radiating out from the artifact. The water even seemed to be warming up. “Let’s just try and climb out. Stay close to me. I won’t be able to go very fast. And don’t touch anything outside the shield. You might be able to break it from the inside, and if you do…”
If anypony did, they would all die. But she didn’t want to say as much to her friends.
They began making their slow way up the tower. Priceless relics now floated destroyed all around them. Twilight watched ink bleeding from parchment before her eyes. Endless mysteries of their ancestors were wiped away by the ice. She probably would’ve been brought to tears by it, if she wasn’t already so desperate just to hang on to her magic.
There were a few close calls—a few times the sudden change of pressure shattered the crystal stairs in front of them, or something heavy drifted near the shield and Twilight had to hold still and brace herself against it. But they had fought many dangers together, plenty worse than this. If they could survive the eruption of Mons Ignis, if they could survive the griffons, they could survive a little cold.
Eventually Twilight saw the first few rays of faint sunlight filtering in from the top of the tower. It would be fully dark soon, and there would be little in the way of shelter now. Their entire camp had been washed away in the flood. But there was light, and they were still alive, so she could worry about that threat as it came.
They crested the edge of the water a few seconds later, into one of the upper levels of the tower. This hadn’t been a records room—whatever had been stored here had not been protected from time as well as some of what was hiding deeper.
“What are we waiting for?” Rainbow Dash was somehow flying, keeping right near the edge of the shield. Ready to surge right out of it and up the steps. “That’s the trapdoor leading out! We’re done here!”
“I’m waiting to see if…” Twilight could barely talk anymore. Even that much strain threatened to make her lose concentration and break the shield. She didn’t, though it was a very near thing. She watched the water level, and found it wasn’t rising anymore. Actually it was dropping, though so slowly that she had to stare for several seconds to see it had gone down at all. As it faded, frost collected on the floor where the water had been, freezing into a thin layer of ice. Up here wasn’t quite as warm as it had been right in the base of the tower.
Twilight flopped to one side, letting the shield fall. Her head throbbed from the effort, but she’d gotten them out. She didn’t even care that the crystal floor was wet and it started sucking the heat out of her again.
“I’m gonna see what’s out there,” Rainbow Dash announced, zipping up the tower and away.
Twilight watched her go, though everything was becoming dim. She could still see the beam of magical energy shooting up the length of the tower, and vaguely feel the power passing through it. It was a good thing Rainbow Dash had the sense not to fly across the stream—there was no telling what it might do to her.
Her friends’ voices faded to blurs after that. A few others went up the stairs to join Rainbow Dash on the roof, but Twilight didn’t follow.
“Here.” Spike extended a claw, a bundle of something dark and warm in it. A blanket. It wasn’t even wet.
Twilight didn’t question him, didn’t try to force him to take the blanket for himself. She let him throw it over her, and it helped squash her shivers. “Thanks,” she muttered, her words mushing together. “Used… more magic than I…”
“No problem,” Spike responded, grinning proudly at her. “You just rest. We’ll… work this out.”
“Look who’s growing up,” Twilight muttered, bemused. But she was already feeling better. Most of her exhaustion was magical, and she wasn’t keeping the shield up anymore.
“Yeah, well. Everypony’s got to grow up a little quicker when the world is ending around us,” Spike said. “I just hope this works. I don’t wanna fight the griffons. That seems like such a waste.”
“It would be,” Twilight said. “It would be a terrible waste for everypony. I thought we had the best pony for the job…” Except that Starlight Glimmer had slipped up. The griffons had tricked them into keeping pony slaves. Maybe they never would’ve given them up… but now there were ponies calling for war. Probably the griffons were hearing similar voices in Accipio. The emperor did not seem like he was going to compromise anytime soon. But neither was Princess Celestia.
“Hey, uh… Twi?” Applejack’s voice, from the top of the stairs. “I reckon you should take a look at this.”
“Sure.” Twilight rose, shaking herself out. She still felt cold, would’ve rather curled up right there and taken a nap. But her friends were counting on her. She tossed Spike his blanket and made her way up the stairs. He followed close behind, dutiful as ever.
There was no damage to the upper steps, and the layer of ice and snow that had once collected here was gone. Twilight emerged onto the roof beside the others, and stared out at what they had done. She did not need to ask Applejack what it was she was supposed to see.
The tower was now located in the exact center of a perfectly round lake. It wasn’t as deep as the tower was tall—perhaps a third that, and slowly getting shallower. There were a few little islands rising from the water, though not as many as she would’ve liked. Far, far in the distance, she could vaguely make out a wall of ice, stretching high above the water.
A layer of fog rose from the water, as though twisting and dancing through the air in front of her. There was even a boat on the lake.
Their balloon, floating slowly away. By some miracle it had managed to keep from being dragged under and flooded. Thank Celestia we didn’t take one with a chemical engine. Twilight didn’t understand how those worked as well as the magic ones, but she knew that if water got into the chemicals, they could explode.
As she watched, she could see a little line of light occasionally appear, connecting the top of the tower to some invisible point far in away. Back towards the Crystal Empire.
“We did it,” Rarity said, her voice low. “I’m having trouble believing it. But we did it. It’s so… it’s so warm. A few more hours and it might be warm enough to set up a beach resort.”
“I don’t like it,” Rainbow Dash muttered. “You can’t just tinker with the climate like this and expect nothing to happen. Warm air out in the middle of nowhere like this… I don’t like it. This is weather school 101 stuff, Twi.”
“Maybe we should worry about gettin’ our balloon back?” Applejack suggested, pointing. “I dunno if ya’ll noticed, but it’s floating away.”
“Yeah.” Twilight followed it with her eyes. “Rainbow, Fluttershy. Let’s fly out there and drag it back to the tower. We’ll… we have to stick around here long enough to see if anything bad happens. Then maybe…” There were the records downstairs, perhaps some of them had survived the flood. Even if they hadn’t, Twilight guessed there would be other ways to locate the rest of these towers. They all had the same effective range. They could probably assume the ancients had used them as efficiently as possible—used the position of this one to guess at where its neighbors might be.
Even if this worked, even if they found them all—there was no telling whether it would help deal with Accipio. But we can’t just sit around and wait for them to invade. We have to do something.
Gina was not the sort of bird who had to deal with the big picture of politics. She didn’t have to see the relationships between the great houses, or their slow machinations as they constantly fought to out-maneuver each other. Her own house had been part of that great game once, though she hadn’t been anywhere near the top. The birds of Purity had been unwilling to sacrifice their purity to do what was necessary to keep a great house from being torn apart from all sides. Now Purity was gone, divided into the masses of birds of other bloodlines.
But how much longer could Accipio continue as they were, consuming another great house every decade or so? Eventually their waring and politicking would create a world where only one house remained, and the emperor it produced would rule for all of time.
Even if he’s from house Virtue, that would be a terrible ending for our kind. Even if the emperor came from house Purity, and they were still living together in their ancestral homeland, it would’ve made her nervous. But the future was even less certain now that they were guests at the whim of ponies.
Now it seemed house Vengeance had taken the first steps to ensuring they would be guests no longer.
Gina moved slowly along the deck, passing Hogarth with a nod as she walked. Captain Hookbeak seemed to have his eye mostly on the sky, scanning for pony ships.
Below them, Equestria passed by as quickly as their engines could take them. But however swift the Lapwing was, it couldn’t outrun the smoke its engines made as they flew. The chances that some pony ship wouldn’t be waiting to intercept them were very small.
What was worse, Gideon and his Vengeance monks now skulked across the deck, practicing their various crafts in whatever corners they could find. They wore the sacred robes with distinction, but even so Gina could muster little respect for them. There was no denying the danger they had brought to every bird by circumventing the pony injunction on firearms. They could sing sweet songs about obeying the words of the treaty all they wanted—when Equestria heard about this, there would be war.
Gina found herself settling in beside Isabel on the deck. The pony was near the bow, watching as settlements went by far below them. Compared to the destruction of their homeland, Equestria seemed almost unscathed by the apocalypse. Even the signs of ordinary war were absent—Accipio was a land of mighty fortresses, where every hill was fortified with some ancient redoubt, or equally ancient burial site.
Equestria had no such places. Their cities weren’t fortresses tucked against the mountains, but more sprawling versions of the slave-settlements that worked the land of Accipio. No walls, no cannons, nothing.
“Do you regret coming here?” Gina asked, her voice low. There was nothing to stop her from conversing with her slaves—but the priests from Vengeance were watching. There were old customs about the way to treat slaves. She didn’t want some birds working for the honorless Vengeance to overhear what she was thinking. “Or maybe you wish you were down there.”
“No,” Isabel said. “I don’t think so. Maybe you didn’t need me… but it’s nice to see Equestria up close. I always wanted to… see it. Not live here—they’re too primitive for me. I don’t want to live with barbarians. But maybe once everything is safe I’ll be able to visit.”
Gina was about to reply, but she didn’t get the chance. Someone shouted from behind her, and she spun around to see it was Hookbeak. “Equestrian vessels ahead, Imperator! What are your orders?”
Gina nodded once to the unicorn, then took to the air, gliding swiftly to the upper deck beside the captain. “Can you get away, Hookbeak?”
The old bird shook his head. “Afraid not, Imperator. There’s three of them this time, all along the border. Take a look.” He held out his spyglass for her, and Gina squinted at the lens to look. There were three of them all-right, modern Equestrian vessels with the odd-looking hulls and magical engines. She’d heard rumors some of these new ships had cannons on them too, though as of yet they’d never had the displeasure of finding out. The day an Equestrian ship actually fired on an Accipian ship might be the beginning of the end of the world.
“Those flags.” She passed the binoculars back. “What are they signaling?”
Captain Hookbeak took his spyglass back, staring through the lenses for a few seconds. “That’s… they think we’re a merchant ship. Makes sense, with no Accipian flag flying. But once they get closer they’re going to see all of us, and know we’re not from that midden of Griffonstone. Our heading makes that mighty obvious.”
“And we can’t outrun them?” Gina looked past him, to the empty places where cannons would be on the side of their ship. Removing them had meant a significantly reduced weight, meant they were nimble—but it also meant they were defenseless. Emperor Gaius had obeyed the treaty in every respect when sending them—except for the part about ponies no longer allowing them across the border.
“No chance,” Hookbeak said. “Well, we can delay them. Come about, make for Equestrian territory with all speed. But they’re in their own lands. They’ll have reinforcements coming from the north to cut us off.
“We’re doing what Equestria wanted,” Gina muttered. “It’s okay. That’s what we’ll tell them. There’s nothing aboard we need be concerned about.” She glanced briefly down at the deck, where Isabel was still watching the countryside below them. Almost nothing to be concerned about.
She straightened. “Captain Hookbeak, signal our surrender. We’ll reduce speed and allow ourselves to be boarded.”
A few of the sailors all around them seemed visibly annoyed with this pronouncement. One of them muttered something she couldn’t hear to another sailor—she could only catch the word “female,” and from his tone it was obvious it hadn’t been flattering.
She didn’t know what the bird had said, but she didn’t much care. She pretended as though she hadn’t heard. Hookbeak, for his part, only saluted before shouting his orders. The Lapwing began to slow, a griffon near the bow flashing a few flags in rhythm to the distant pony ship. Gina didn’t know what they meant, but she assumed it was surrender.
“One more thing, Hookbeak. Raise our flag. Make sure they know who they’re boarding.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
She returned to the front of the ship, settling in beside Isabel. “You should… probably get below decks, Isabel,” she suggested. “And… while you’re at it, give me that slave-collar.” It wasn’t locked. Like all of Gina’s slaves, Isabel was loyal to the core, and her collar was not a restraint. Even Hogarth’s heavy iron band was more for intimidation’s sake, as well as reassuring citizen birds that he was “under control.” It had no lock.
Isabel removed the slave-collar without hesitation. But Gina wasn’t the kind of master who expected absolute, unquestioning obedience from her slaves. Not when they might have better ideas. “It might be better if I stay up here,” she said, her voice appropriately deferential. “It they search and find me, it will be worse than if I’m on the deck when they get here. I can take off the necklace, but I can’t remove this.” She twisted her right hind leg slightly, exposing the long-healed scar of her brand.
Few masters still branded their slaves—that barbaric practice had fallen out of favor a long time ago. But many of the slaves Gina had obtained for her own household had been by confiscation, taken from some of the worst families in Accipio. Birds who didn’t treat honor the way Virtue did.
Gina tucked the slave-collar away into her money-pouch, nodding once to Isabel. “Good idea. And if they ask…”
“I’ll say I’m a member of your household,” Isabel said. “It’s true. They’re ponies, they won’t have the courage to question you. They’re barbarians and cowards all.”
They watched in silence as the three pony airships closed in around them. She could see as they got closer that the rumor of Equestrian ships having cannons appeared to be just that—these ships had a single ballista atop their decks, as though they were on their way to a museum display.
As they neared, the birds of the Griffonstone monastery gathered near the top deck. All except for Gideon, who joined Gina on the bow to watch.
“An interesting tactic, allowing them to get this close,” he whispered. “We can see their numbers, certainly. Their weaknesses. How will we destroy them?”
“Through cooperation,” Gina said, unable to keep the spite from her tone. “Once they realize we are here enforcing the will of their princesses, they will be helpless but to leave us alone.”
Her mockery didn’t elicit so much as a smile from the monk. He looked her up and down with a withering stare. “Don’t think that just because Purity was willing to bend the knee that the rest of us are so easily broken. We won’t be ridden like a slave by the weak will of prey. My birds will not submit to these slaves dressing up and pretending to be soldiers. They will learn their place in time.”
“You will cooperate, by authority of Emperor Gaius,” she said, flashing her seal briefly at him. “If your birds resist, you will not return for trial. I’ll have your wings bound and throw you overboard myself.”
It wasn’t entirely an empty threat. Imperial commands were absolute, and she did carry his authority. At least so far as returning these birds to Accipian territory. But Gideon was from an important branch of house Vengeance. “You know who I am,” he said, his voice low. She could see the glint of his claws, purposefully extended for a moment. “There is no greater master of arms in all Accipio. I could kill every soldier aboard those ships without a gun. The only reason any of your crew is still alive is my cousin’s respect for Gaius. You would not do well to test it.”
The pony ships were very close now. She could see the pegasi moving through the air all around them, wearing their light scale-mail armor. They carried crossbows, most of them, though some had blades instead. No firearms to speak of. The center ship appeared be moving alongside, with a few ponies preparing to bring across the bridge that would connect them. They were being boarded.
“Your skills are impressive,” Gina agreed. “I saw some of your tournaments, before you took the vow of service to the ancestors. But don’t think Gaius sent this ship unprepared to deal with you. If you raise your claws against me or those ponies, I swear on the old blood of Purity you won’t leave my ship alive.”
He met her gaze in an electric silence, yellow eyes boring into her light blue. But she didn’t look away, not for a second. Not until the voice of a gruff pony sounded from behind them. “All aboard, line up and present yourselves for inspection! Any wearing weapons will toss them to the deck and not pick them up again. If you’re carrying contraband, present it now—it’ll go quicker for all of us. Will the officer in charge please present themselves and their writ of passage.” And on and on.
Gina turned her back on Gideon. The gesture took enormous courage—showing ones back directly after a confrontation like this was a dangerous gamble. Vulnerability like that invited attack, but it was also an expression of contempt. As Gina was female, that made the move even more pronounced. You are beneath my notice. I know I have power over you. And at least for the moment, she was right. She could smell the bird’s anger following her across the deck, but Gideon didn’t strike her.
“That would be me,” she said, stopping before the pony in the fanciest uniform. She removed her large knife from her belt in an exaggerated way, tossing it to the side. Then she extended a talon. “My name is Gina of house Virtue. We travel under the sacred auspice of the emperor himself.” She removed the seal, handing over the wrought gold to the officer. “I trust you’ll find everything in order.”
The pony leading the boarding party was a pegasus stallion as stern and well-muscled as a pony could be—which still meant he was a little shorter than she was. No firearms on his belt, not even a musket. But then, none of the birds on her ship had firearms either. Gina had made very sure that the monks didn’t get a chance to try and smuggle anything back with them, despite their protests.
The officer handed her seal back a moment later. “My name is Captain Skysword, Equestrian Navy. As I understand the treaty, no Accipian vessel is permitted in our airspace. I trust you’ve got a good explanation.”
As they spoke, his soldiers were rushing up and down the line of griffons, down into the decks, turning over everything they could. Of course, she already knew they wouldn’t find anything. Except for what was obvious.
“We do,” Gina said, replacing the seal around her neck. There was one mildly satisfying thing about talking to pony soldiers over griffons—Skysword hadn’t even mentioned she was female. “Emperor Gaius discovered that some members of house Vengeance were… stranded in your territory after the ban. This vessel was sent to retrieve them.” She gestured back at the monks. “Once you permit us to leave, there will be no griffons acting under the authority of any of the great houses dwelling in your lands.”
“That is… good, I suppose.” Skysword took a step back, giving her a little more space. “We’ll see if that story checks out. If there’s no contraband aboard—if you really are just on your way back with some monks, this shouldn’t take long. I’ll have to report this… need your names for the record… but that’s all. Assuming you’re telling the truth.”
Perilously close to the words that would invite violence from a male. Females rarely fought so openly—though often their retribution could be as swift. Unfortunately it wasn’t just the two of them here. Gina could feel the weight of many birds suddenly watching her then. Questioning her honor was the same as attacking the reputation of the ship itself, since she was technically commanding it. If she did not react, one of these sailors might.
“I must’ve misheard you,” she said, straightening a little. “Surely you didn’t mean to question my word, Skysword. You know we Accipians don’t speak just to hear the sound of our own voices.”
Skysword hesitated. His body tensed, perhaps on the edge of an angry reaction. Maybe he saw the birds all watching him, because he seemed to think better of it. “Of course,” he said lamely. “I’m not making any accusations. Let us see what the search turns up.”
They waited in awkward silence for several minutes. It wasn’t just the sailors that were searched—the ship was turned upside-down. Compartments had their contents scattered on the deck, barrels were poked into, and unicorns cast various spells wherever they went. They’re looking for guns, Gina realized, recognizing the technique. They were searching anywhere that powder might’ve been stored, any containers large enough to hold it. Not that it would matter on a ship without any guns.
Of course, the one thing that Gina knew would upset these ponies was not hidden at all. About five minutes into the search, one of the pony navy men led Isabel over to where they waited.
Isabel shifted uneasily on her hooves, seeming like she kept thinking of running away. But where could she go? Even if she was one of the best spellcasters on any Accipian ship, that didn’t mean she could go up against trained warmages. She knew it just as Gina did.
“We found her,” said an earth pony stallion in a low voice, nudging her forward. “She’s branded, Captain. They were hiding pony slaves.”
Gina snapped back before Skysword could respond. “If hiding is standing someone in plain sight aboard the upper deck, we aren’t terribly good at hiding things.” She rolled her eyes, casting a contemptful glance back at the naval pony. “This is Isabel. She’s a member of my household.”
“Is that true?” All of the captain’s harshness had gone from his voice, all of his anger. He took one step closer to Isabel, speaking entirely for her. One of the other soldiers stepped between Gina and Isabel, resting one hoof on her rapier. Fools all if you draw it. You ponies are outmatched if Gideon decides to disobey me. And she knew he would be watching every moment, just waiting for a justifiable infraction. He couldn’t just defy the orders of the emperor. But if they were acting in self-defense against an unreasonable enemy, well… that was something else.
Isabel nodded vigorously. “It’s true. I have been with Gina for a long time. Ever since she saved me from house Victory.”
“You’re branded,” said Skysword, voice still low. “You know that… Equestria does not recognize slavery as legal status for any of its ponies. If you’re a prisoner here…” He glanced briefly at Gina. “We can take you to safety. Take you away from them. You’ll never have to see another griffon again.”
Isabel didn’t seem to have to think about the offer very long. “I am a member of Gina’s household,” she said again. “My help is important. She couldn’t do her duty without me.”
Skysword’s voice was barely a whisper now as he leaned in. “Are you her slave or not, pony? I need a clear answer.”
Isabel shrugged. “I am not an unwilling captive in Accipio. I don’t want to be taken away. She’s not forcing me, and I’m not afraid. I don’t need to be ‘saved’ by some barbarian.”
That did it—her words seemed to hit the captain like a physical blow. “We’ve seen ponies like you,” he muttered. “Stockholm… you’ve clearly been mistreated. But we have treatments for all of that. You don’t have to be dependent on your old masters.” He gestured with one hoof, and one of the soldiers nudged her towards the bridge.
“Captain says you’re coming with us.”
That was when Gina stepped forward. “You will not be taking a member of my household against her will,” she said, her voice firm. It was as much an instruction for the other members of the crew as a warning for this pony. “The treaty does not permit you to kidnap any ponies who fly through Equestria.”
“No,” Skysword agreed. “It permits us to take anyone who passes into Equestrian airspace without permission as prisoners of war. We’re well within our authority to lock you all in irons, impound this vessel, and drag you all to the Canterlot dungeons.”
There was a sudden silence on the deck of the Lapwing—the entire line of griffons watched closely. Many adjusted themselves in small ways, settling claws under them, or making it easier to jump and grab for weapons.
“I would… suggest against attempting that,” Gina said. “Or threatening my crew again. We aren’t ponies, Skysword. Accipians do not appreciate being spoken to that way.”
“No, we don’t,” Gideon said, shoving one of the pony guards sideways and approaching them at a slow walk. He wore only the light robe of his office, still untied from the search. As he walked, he eyed the ponies making to stop him as though they were utterly beneath his contempt. “I think it’s time for us to be leaving, Gina. Why don’t you tell this pony to cast off. Turn their tails for their own cities and leave the Lapwing to its mission.”
Gina had a few precious moments to hope for one of the pony-males they were always hearing rumors about—the kind that could judge the weight of their statements the way griffon females did. The ones who thought before they acted and didn’t accidentally start wars.
Her hope was misplaced. “Officer of the watch,” Skysword said, gesturing imperiously. “This prisoner has not followed instructions. We’ll be taking him as well. Clasp him in irons.”
“Unity forgive us,” Gina said, retreating one step from Skysword.
“What was that?” The captain asked, glaring at her. “Be thankful that’s all we’ll be taking. You can have your citizens back once that slaver emperor of yours—”
At that moment, the burly stallion who was apparently the officer of the watch made it to Gideon with a rusty set of manacles. The griffon remained still, frozen and tense in a stance Gina could recognize, even if she couldn’t replicate it herself. He was poised to strike.
As soon as the pony got close enough, he did.
Maybe this fight might’ve been more evenly matched. Had they been on the ground, where earth pony magic was strongest, a trained earth pony would be a serious adversary. But this high up…
Compared to Gideon, he might as well be a blind child. The griffon moved in a blur, stepping directly towards the pony and smashing a knee up into his face. His second blow shattered a bone in the pony’s leg, sending him sprawling sideways across the deck.
Sheaths echoed as ponies all over the deck drew their weapons. A few of her own crew dove for theirs as well, or anything heavy-looking they could reach. Most of the monks didn’t even bother, just rising with their claws at the ready. Their tools couldn’t be taken away in a simple search.
Isabel dodged out from behind the ponies, back towards the griffon side of the ship.
“Leave now!” Gina shouted, her voice loud enough to sound over the chaos. This was the last chance they had—any further, and there would be blood. Her crew could accept humiliating the ponies this way as victory enough for the way they’d been treated. But if the ponies fought back… “You don’t want to fight us today. Believe me.”
“No, you don’t,” Skysword whispered, his voice low and dangerous. “Surrender now. Every one of you who raised a weapon will be taken into custody, and—”
Gideon stepped forward towards him. There were three ponies between him and the captain now, weapons at the ready. Gideon was still unarmed, except for his claws. He looked completely unafraid. “Fly away, little songbirds. You’re not meal enough for me.”
They didn’t fly away. A few seconds later, and the deck descended into chaos.
Gina had been in the center of brawls before, but this was different. Ponies and birds fought, shouting sounded from the nearby ships, pegasus ponies filled the air. A limp pony trailing blood went rolling away from her along the deck, even as a massive metallic sound shook the air and a huge harpoon flew over her head, smashing directly into the Lapwing’s mast.
She lacked the training to gage which side was winning, though her involvement no longer mattered. Gaius is never going to give me a mission again. Assuming she even made it back to Accipio after this.
Isabel was at her side as they retreated below-decks, trying to get as far away from the battle as possible. Ponies didn’t follow them—the fighting was all above.
“You could’ve let them take me!” Isabel shouted over the melee. “My life isn’t worth this!”
“I protect my own,” Gina answered, her voice quivering. What would they do if they lost? Screams of the dead and dying all sounded the same to her, no matter their species.
Isabel’s horn glowed as they made their way to the lower-decks, to the coal-bunker. Beside it were the barrels of lantern oil and alcohol, both equally precious. Damn ponies had dumped a whole barrel out onto the deck. How desperate did they think Accipio was to hide gunpowder?
For obvious reasons, there were no lanterns down here, not where a single spark might mean death for everyone aboard. She could smell gas gently rising in the room, filling the air around her. It made her head spin.
For a few quiet minutes they hid there, together, listening to the battle unfold aboard the deck. Eventually the screaming died down, and a dim outline appeared in the gloom ahead of them. Someone was bringing a lantern down here. Were they completely insane?
“Hey, Imperator?” Gideon’s voice, sounding low and grave. “Are you down here? Someone saw you flying down here like a female.”
“I am a female,” she said, emerging from behind a large container of coal.
“Good.” Gideon was on the stairwell, looking down at her. His body was covered with deep red stains, soaking through his robe all over. “Makes this simple. Can’t have you flying back to Gaius to sing stories about this, can we?” He held the lantern high above his head, then tossed it with all his might, towards the barrels of oil.
Gina stumbled back from the flash, expecting to be consumed in a moment of terrible agony—and she found she was still alive. She blinked, still feeling the heat, before she realized what had happened. Isabel had conjured a wall of gray magic, separating the two of them from the flames. She grinned at the unicorn, nodding her appreciation—but there wasn’t exactly a chance to relax. The air was filling with heat, and smoke rose all around them. It wouldn’t take long before they couldn’t breathe.
“I don’t know how long I can manage this, mistress!” Isabel called, her voice high and panicked. She had her back to the wall of the Lapwing, and seemed to be trembling. Gina couldn’t exactly blame her for that.
“We need a way out!” Gina called back. They couldn’t climb up to the deck, even if they somehow could make it through the flames. If Gideon was willing to destroy one of Gaius’s ships and murder one of his imperators, then surely he would make sure he finished the job.
If they couldn’t go up, that left them only one direction. “I need you to tear open a hole!” she shouted, pointing at the deck beside them. “You can get on my back, and… I’ll glide us down!” It would be a desperately difficult task with the two of them… and she would have to leave Hogarth behind. Hopefully they would consider a powerful minotaur who hadn’t seen their murder worth the price of keeping alive.
“I’ll… try…” Isabel muttered, shaking all over. “I won’t be able to do both spells at once. The fire might get closer to us. You should look away so you don’t burn your eyes.”
Smoke had filled the air already, though it didn’t seem to be intruding past Isabel’s barrier. At least, it hadn’t yet. Gina turned away from the flames, and braced herself for the heat.
She was unprepared for the violence of its assault. Her feathers and fur seemed to wilt at the wave that struck her, so hot that she started to sway on her claws. It burned, but she had nowhere to flee. She wanted to break something, to tear something apart, to take Gideon by the throat and use his blood to put out the fire.
But she could do none of that.
A few moments later, the wood splintered from in front of her. Isabel had made an opening, fraying at the edges of the planks. It was barely large enough for her, certainly not big enough for both of them to go at the same time.
What was worse, the Lapwing had started to fall. Slowly at first, though if they stayed aboard much longer they’d be slammed into the ceiling.
I survived the end of house Purity. I’m going to survive this. Gina shoved her way through the opening, ignoring the shards of wood as they stuck her in limbs and chest. The pain was irrelevant compared to what would be coming for her if she failed.
She spread her wings on the other side, waiting as close as she could. “On my back!” she called, glancing back desperately. The Lapwing was drifting away, further and further by the moment, and she was in far too much pain to fly over.
A second later, Isabel tumbled past her into the void, missing her by feet.
Gina wasn’t a warrior—females were not trained in combat. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t fly. Gina ignored her pain, ignored her shock, and dove after her plummeting slave.
She could hear Isabel’s terrified voice, screams and pleading as she fell rapidly through the air. She’d started tumbling, as many a non-flier did in their last moments before impact.
Gina reached her about half a mile above the ground. She matched her speed as best she could, wrapping her claws around her. She took a hoof to the side of the head, another to the ribs, but finally the pony stopped spinning. Gina pulled into the tightest arc she could—but it wasn’t going to be enough. They were going to hit.
Gina had open ground, trees, and a pond to choose from. She chose the latter, angling them just slightly. A few seconds later, they struck with an explosion of water.
The danger of a hard landing into water was drowning. The impact was nearly enough to knock her unconscious instantly—though she hadn’t been going nearly as quickly as a freefall from altitude. A few seconds after impact and they’d sunk all the way to the bottom, landing with a thunk in the murk.
Next came the disorientation—it was so dark, and there was so much soil in the water. Gina followed her bubbles to the surface, dragging Isabel the whole way. They surfaced together, gasping and spluttering.
Somewhere not that far away, the Lapwing finally crashed into the ground. There was an explosion—loud enough that her ears rang from it. A mushroom-cloud of fire and fuel rose into the air in front of them, stretching up and up into the sky.
One of the pony ships smashed down a few seconds later, without any more sound than the crunching of wood.
Beside her, Isabel clung to the bank, hacking and coughing into the water. Gina didn’t let her stand—didn’t let her do anything that might make them visible from the air. “Stay… low. Just… head out. We can’t let them see us…”
They waited, bruised and bloody in the water. Gina felt her strength slowly ebb away, as the chill liquid sapped it from her body. If Gideon and his monks flew down for them, they would certainly be killed. Gina couldn’t have won a fight with him even if she’d been uninjured. Poor captain Hookbeak. Maybe he and his crew had been lucky, and would’ve been taken prisoner by the monks. Somehow, she doubted it. He would know too much about Gideon’s treason.
Maybe some of his crew. They don’t deserve to die for this.
But all those lives would count for nothing compared to what would happen when word of this reached Equestria. They’d attacked Equestrian ships on the border—and destroyed at least one. Presumably, Gideon would have commandeered at least one of the others.
Gina rolled onto her back, trying to get a good look through the smoke. She could make out two outlines, now flying together for griffon space. Many small specks seemed to be flying away, the other direction. Even Gideon hadn’t killed everyone.
A dark thought surfaced in Gina’s mind then, unbidden. Maybe he wants them to survive. He wants a war.
It was hard for Gina to imagine even Santiago acting that rashly—but certainly he wouldn’t have sent Gideon here without orders. No simple monk would make political decisions that might shape the two last great nations of Equus.
She lay there in the water and the cold, on the edge of delirium, until night finally came and the two pony airships vanished into the distance. No one came to investigate the crash site and see if she were really dead—but then, the explosion had been spectacular. No one could’ve survived that.
I need to get back to Gaius with what happened. As the hours passed, Gina had plenty of time to imagine the worst possible scenario—where Gideon made it back to the emperor to present his case unmolested. He would lie about the encounter, tell the emperor that they’d been attacked under the flag of truce, and Gina herself brutally murdered. That would inspire Accipio to war, despite their disadvantages.
Vengeance would have firearms, and no one else would. By the time the dust had settled, young Santiago would be emperor, and both nations would be ashes at his claws.
“Gina… are you still with me?”
She blinked, looking up. She wasn’t in the water anymore. Isabel had dragged her under the cover of the trees. There was a campfire a few feet away, orange light feeble against the encroaching night. She glanced down, and realized many of her little wounds had been bandaged. While she had been on the edge of exhaustion, Isabel had worked. Unity to thank that I brought you with me, Isabel. I’d be dead in that explosion without you.
“Ye-yeah, I’m alive.” She sat up, stretching her wings one at a time. She didn’t feel the pain of any broken bones, whatever that was worth. Just battered from the impact. “Did you… see if anything survived the crash?”
“Not… not on the Lapwing,” Isabel muttered. “The explosion… it all burned.”
“The pony ship didn’t burn,” Gina replied, though she still didn’t try standing. Even slight twitches made her feel sore. “We should see if there’s anything in there.”
“Corpses,” Isabel answered. Gina could see her across the campfire now. She had a few bandages too, though not nearly as many as Gina. Her fur was scorched near her cutie mark, and the scorchmarks had swallowed the brand completely. “Don't know how many. Should've been more. Maybe the rest were inside.”
“And you didn’t want to go in,” Gina finished for her. “I can’t blame you. Tomorrow I can… I can go and look. We’ll need supplies for the journey back to New Scythia.”
Isabel nodded, apparently relieved. She wasn’t a warrior, any more than Gina was. Even ponies raised in civilization had weaker stomachs than proper birds. “You may want to consider another option,” she whispered. Deferential and submissive, despite all they had endured together.
If we get out of this alive, I’ll have to free you after all. Or free her in all but name—actually casting Isabel out of her house after the unicorn had saved her life from certain death would be a poor way to repay the debt.
“We need to report this to the emperor,” Gina replied, leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree. She hissed as she inhaled, but at least she wasn’t bleeding anymore. “I don’t know if there’s… any way to keep the peace after this. But we have to try. If Gideon gets a chance to lie to Gaius unopposed, there will be war for certain.”
Isabel nodded, gesturing vaguely out into the darkness. “If we… if we stick around here, there’s a good chance the ponies will investigate. They lost a warship, after all… maybe they’ll want to look for survivors. There aren’t any from their ship… but there’s us. We could let them take us to Accipio.”
Convince a pony warship to take them. After coming out to investigate the destruction of one of their own, then discovering a ship full of corpses. The odds didn’t seem good.
“Waiting… feels wrong. If we sit here long enough, both countries might destroy each other.”
“Maybe,” Isabel said, always deferential. “But it’s a long walk to New Scythia, and most of it through desert. Do you know how many miles it is?”
Gina thought back to the last time she’d glanced at Hookbeak’s maps. “Maybe… a hundred? Seventy-five? Between those numbers.”
“Do you feel well enough to fly?”
Gina spread one of her wings, gazing at the warped wax. At least a dozen feathers looked like they’d been destroyed by the flames. “Maybe… a short distance. I know I can glide because we’re both still alive.”
“You shouldn’t try now,” Isabel said. “I can tell from looking at you, you must’ve hit your head on the water coming down. I cast every healing spell I know… hopefully that’s enough. In the morning we can see. If you can fly… you should leave me here. I can find my way back to New Scythia through the ponies eventually. And if you can’t… we can make the trip together. However you think we should, mistress.”
But the undertone to that was obvious. And you know my suggestions are better than walking. They were better. The question was: would Gina even survive until morning to try them?
I have to. Gaius needs to know what happened here. He needs the truth. Even if we have to work with the ponies to bring it back to him.
“I’m going to… try and rest,” she muttered, flopping back down into the dirt. “Don’t let anything eat us in the meantime.”
Not-Prince Velar knew when he wasn’t wanted. He could sense it in the hospital staff, in the constant eyes he felt whenever her went down the hall for lunch. The guards he could feel shadowing him all the while, though they tried to keep their presence discrete.
Maybe that would’ve fooled ponies, who wandered through life half-blind and deaf at every moment. But Velar had been trained for war—he could sense an assassin even if they were an owl flying on the other side of a wall.
He saw less of Starlight Glimmer than he would’ve liked in the next few weeks. Mostly he saw doctors—unicorns and earth ponies, who would sprawl him out on some cot somewhere and pour over his injury with spells or cleaning supplies or potions. The whole process was infuriating, but at least his fears about the incompetence of males for medical tests proved unfounded. Nor were Zoya’s fears about his wound becoming septic and inevitably rotting him from the inside coming true.
Velar had counted himself dead. Many of the well-wishes from slaves and good birds in Accipio alike had expressed parting words. They weren’t wishing for him to get better, but praying he would be protected and find peace in Unity.
But Velar had beaten them all. Or… maybe not him. The ponies had proven that there was some worth to an inferior magic after all. For a yellow-bellied coward like me, who wouldn’t take the life of a slave. And when the ponies whispered about him, when they thought he couldn’t hear, they spoke of it like it was a virtue.
I’m willing to order birds to their death every day on the battlefield, but I will not accept a life to power the spell needed to save my life. What’s wrong with me? What was wrong with Accipio, that someone had managed to smuggle a working firearm into the tournament grounds? Vengeance, obviously. But could any bird prove it?
The ponies did not make it easy for Velar to stay sane while he healed. For entertainment Canterlot’s hospital had only an expansive library of books he didn’t know how to read, and an attractive garden he wasn’t allowed to visit for fear he might try and escape.
Starlight Glimmer gave him updates—though what she said was frightening and there were always long pauses between her visits. “Withdrawal from griffon lands are complete,” she announced one week. “All the birds are out of Equestria,” was news the next week.
Then she came with questions. “Velar, do you…” She looked flustered that day, more so than usual. Her mane was haphazard, and she didn’t smell like she’d bathed in her usual perfumes. Or at all. “Something’s… Did you know anything about a temple in Griffonstone?”
He shook his head. “I’m certain that it isn’t anything to do with my father’s house. We tried to negotiate with those birds, but… they lacked any sort of authority to negotiate with. That city is a disaster, Starlight. Those birds are in pitiful shape.”
“Not anymore.” She sat across from him, in one of the comfortable chairs. Much more comfortable than the medical wing of the Stalwart Stratus. Velar was back to wearing the typical white tunics a bird of his station ought to wear, even though his fur and feathers were only just starting to grow back where they’d been cut away. He still looked and felt emaciated, and a pony diet wasn’t helping. It was a struggle even to get fish up here, let alone the red meat that would’ve really set him on the path of recovery. “There’s a whole temple up there. We noticed a few ships going back and forth before communications ended. Thought they were doing city repairs. Turns out they were building a fortress.”
Starlight Glimmer held up a sketch for him, though she didn’t pass it over. Velar no longer loafed uselessly in his hospital bed, but sat in one of the other visiting chairs. He still felt like a prisoner—and knew that he was.
But like all ponies, Starlight Glimmer underestimated just how good he could see. Even across the room he could take in every detail of the image at a glance. He could see the fortified walls going up, the places that would hold cannons, the forges. “That is… expansive.”
“They didn’t touch the old city,” Starlight Glimmer muttered, sounding betrayed. But she often spoke that way when birds were involved. “Griffonstone griffons won’t let our inspectors in to see what they did. Work crews are gone… but there are still some experts there, from what we know. And half of Griffonstone seems to go there to work now. Doing… Celestia only knows.”
Celestia might not know, but Velar did. Those huge cylinders and the smokestacks that went with them were Bessemer converters. Maybe they’re just making farm equipment. Or pipes for new buildings. Because that was how you made your farm tools. You didn’t open an obvious factory in your city, you flew in secret experts a country away where you thought no one would look.
“You’re thinking something,” Starlight said, folding the drawing into her saddlebags. Her face got stern. “What do you know?”
Velar ignored the question. “Do you know which house these experts came from? Maybe… we’re all proud. Maybe you saw a flag?”
Starlight nodded, removing another sketch. This one had color.
Velar didn’t even need to get a good look at the sigil underneath to know who it came from. The greens were obvious. “House Vengeance. Obviously. Because anything that goes wrong these days is their fault. Of course they’d be the ones to try something like this. I wonder how they got in with the locals…”
“Nopony knows,” Starlight said. “Princess Celestia thinks this could be dangerous. She was hoping you might be able to tell us more about it.”
“If I do, will you send me home?” He rose from his seat, stretching. “Don’t try and say I’m not healthy enough. We both know that hasn’t been true for days now. I wouldn’t have to fly the whole way—my father would happily reimburse you for a charter or something. Unity knows you’d just have to say my name, and he’d have the flagship here to pick me up.”
Starlight Glimmer rose too, shifting uncomfortably on her hooves. He’d been right, she had been about to use his health to keep him trapped here. But he was wise to her tricks. “Not yet,” she eventually said. “Princess Celestia is hoping that having you here might…”
“Might make my family more cooperative,” he finished for her. “Because I’m a hostage. An ancient, successful technique. Except that my father understands the future of all Accipio is at stake.” His eyes narrowed, the closest to anger he dared with the pony. “Gaius is a good bird, more honorable than any emperor before him. How many other emperors do you think would let their only son choose to die to uphold their own sense of honor?” He didn’t give her a chance to think. He already knew the answer. “Not one. You can use me as a hostage—maybe you can negotiate for the trade of some pony prisoners or something. But it won’t work for getting Emperor Gaius to compromise on policy. He knows that I would rather die than see the birds of Accipio hurt. He will give me that opportunity without hesitation if it comes to that.”
Starlight Glimmer met his gaze for a long moment. But she was still prey—ultimately, she was the one to look away first, stomping one hoof in frustration. “You… dumb birds… are insufferable!” she practically screamed. Almost as bold as a male griffon. Almost. “We gave you land! We’re the ones keeping the climate from going crazy! We’re the reason you have anything to eat! Don’t you think you owe us a little cooperation in return? Giving back the ponies you enslaved.”
“No.” He kept his voice flat, without her anger. “The ponies our great-great-great grandparents enslaved. Ponies that have been part of Accipian families for centuries since. Ponies that probably don’t even want to go back to Equestria. You know what this demand will sound like to my father?” This too was ill-advised. Like informing the ponies what Vengeance was really up to, his own side would be better off the worse that ponies knew what was going on. But he couldn’t stop himself.
“I’ll tell you. It will sound like Princess Celestia is trying to consciously unravel our social order. She’s trying to dissolve and conquer Accipio the way she did to house Endurance. She made them give up their slaves too, you know. That’s where Equestrian minotaurs come from. Most of your zebras too.”
“I… I know that…” Starlight muttered, though much of her anger had faded into simple curiosity. “Why would your father think that, anyway? Most of your slaves aren’t ponies, you said so. Why would it sound like we wanted to unravel your whole civilization?”
“Because societies need tradition,” Velar said. He gave a silent prayer of thanks to his mother then, who had made sure that his civic training had not been ignored. He was slated to be the emperor one day, after all. She intended for him to be a good one. Not that it seemed likely to happen soon. He couldn’t take the office before he found a mate—or while his father was alive—or while he was a hostage to the ponies in their hospital.
He cleared his throat. “Look, it’s like this. Most everyone started as slaves to someone else a long time ago. Over time, birds earn their freedom, one way or another. Takes ages of work, saving up and fighting. Not to mention that lots of slaves have whole families they want to free, not just themselves. So they end up as freemen, and they realize that it’s not the best place to be. They save up for a few more years, working as hard as they can, until them or their great grandkids can afford citizenship.”
“That sounds… barbaric,” Starlight Glimmer muttered. The word sounded strange to Velar, alien when it was applied to his own kind. It was like a bird covered in mud complaining that he was too dirty. But he ignored it—understanding was more important.
“Well, imagine your whole society was built this way. Almost everyone used to be a slave once, or has lots of friends who were. They worked tirelessly to escape. Now imagine what happens if we freed 40,000 slaves.”
He didn’t wait, didn’t give her the chance to think. Based on their conversations so far, she wouldn’t discover the correct answer. “That would enrage those who spent years and years of hard labor while other slaves drunk or gambled their wages away. And for those who are still slaves, minotaurs and zebras and other creatures who we wouldn’t be forced to free… they’d know that we could be pressured into releasing slaves. Maybe they’d rise up in revolt. There hasn’t been a zebra rebellion in my lifetime… but minotaurs have been trying every few years.”
“I…” Starlight Glimmer had been silenced. She tried to argue, but no coherent words came out. Maybe she was trying to think of ways around it. Eventually she seemed to settle on: “So maybe you should let them all go, not just the ponies. Make everypony a… freeman?”
He met her gaze. “If we did that, would Equestria let the ponies continue to live with us? Or would you force them into your territory?”
Starlight didn’t answer. It was all the confirmation he needed. “Accipian society would not survive that transformation. Those who are free fought hard for that—they would be furious that others were being given what they had earned. Those above them, the citizens of power—they’d be even more furious. Not only that we were stealing their property, but that there was simply not enough gold in all Accipio to pay a whole world of freeman. That kind of coin just doesn’t exist.”
Velar stepped right up to her, meeting Starlight’s eyes with his own. He hoped she would see the sincerity there. “If my father tried to obey Celestia’s orders, the other great houses would revolt the same day. Either they would challenge him for the throne, one by one until some bird beat him… or they’d just raise their armies and try to topple us. And when they finished with house Virtue, they’d come for Equestria.”
Starlight Glimmer retreated from his gaze. She glanced back at the door, then down at him. “I… I don’t think we’ve thought about it that way.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.” He sighed. “Could you think of letting me out of this cage? You still owe me a trip around Canterlot, if I recall. I’ll give you my word of honor not to try and flee. But if you keep me trapped here, I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Your… perspective has been helpful,” Starlight Glimmer eventually said. “I’ll ask. My word doesn’t carry the weight it used to. I kinda made a fool of myself by letting you keep your pony slaves this long.”
“Didn’t seem like that to me,” Velar answered. “If you’d tried to force the language into the treaty, we would’ve refused it. It would’ve been a war. At least so far, not one pony or bird has died. Maybe we can keep it that way. Somehow.”
“Somehow,” Starlight agreed. “I hope so.” She left without another word, leaving Velar alone with his thoughts.
Everything hurt. Gina couldn’t have said specifically what caused her the most agony, if anything. The ache went deep—into every cell, every tissue. Every few dragging steps she wondered if maybe she could curl up under the scorching sun and let it take her for good.
But however much she might want to give up and let herself die, she didn’t stop. If she gave up now, what was left of two nations might destroy each other. That damned volcano might have its final victory after all.
“You sure you don’t want to try flying again?” Isabel asked, her voice nervous and probing. “Just for a few feet. Just in case.”
Gina turned to glare at her, and for once she didn’t temper her anger. “I’m sure I can’t fly, Isabel. And I’m not leaving you.” For entirely self-serving reasons too—the pony was almost unscathed, and as good for carrying cargo as ponies ever were. Gina had filled every container she could with water and given Isabel most of it to carry. She wasn’t an earth pony, but she still bore the load without complaint.
In some ways, the terrain could’ve been worse. As they walked, the land became dryer, with only sparse shrubs and other debris. This was no swamp, ready to submerge them both in mud and drown them in unseen pitfalls.
Instead, they would bake alive. Perhaps the last two witnesses to an act of war.
“So… let’s talk,” Isabel said, after another few miles. It must be afternoon now. Gina felt as dry as birdseed, but she didn’t ask for water. It would be a long time before they reached another river. “Our plan. We have all this time, we must have a plan.”
“Okay,” Gina said. But she wasn’t really feeling it. The truth was, no matter how important her duty had always been, it was hard to be passionate about a doomed mission. Gideon had been on a stolen pony airship. That meant they would probably be reaching New Scythia about now with their treacherous report.
The emperor would take a day to consider what to do, but it would all be pretense. It wouldn’t be about whether to go to war, but planning how to fight it. He would see how inevitable Equestria’s response would be.
“So, Vengeance is going to do everything they can to subvert a possible peace process. They might kill the messengers, or maybe fake denials and proclamations from the emperor.”
“They’d really do that?” Isabel asked. She didn’t sound like she was curious so much as she was trying to keep Gina going.
Gina’s brain hurt too much to be thankful for it. Everything did, right down to her non-functional wings. If I don’t get to a doctor soon they might not heal properly. I’ll be paralyzed for the rest of my life.
But what did that matter if Accipio invaded Equestria and everyone starved?
“Well, they attacked me. That’s essentially the same thing. There’s no way Gideon would just do that out of the blue. Probably Santiago told him to look for an opportunity for something like this. They don’t call them Vengeance for nothing. I bet he’s still trying to get revenge for his father. Killing Velar isn’t enough. He’s trying to destroy everything that Gaius ever built.”
“Velar isn’t dead,” the pony said, her voice coming almost by reflex. “The Equestrians took him for treatment.” It didn’t sound argumentative—it sounded religious.
Gina’s eyes widened, and for a few seconds it seemed the haze had lifted a little. “Why do you care?” It was too bitter—Isabel didn’t deserve the anger from her.
And the unicorn sounded hurt now. Ponies just weren’t as tough as birds, even ponies that grew up in civilization. “Because he’s strong, and he’s good. He’s honorable. Unity wouldn’t let him die when the world needs him so badly.”
Gina didn’t reply for some time. She dragged her legs through the hardened ground, raising a little cloud of dust as she went. It wasn’t quite sandy here, more like the broken ground of somewhere that had been fertile a generation or so ago. But it was all dry now, and there was no sign of civilization. Even what passed for pony society was absent here.
“That prayer you were saying when I woke up. When you thought I wasn’t listening. That was for him, wasn’t it?”
Isabel looked away. Her ears flattened, her scent embarrassed. “Some of it. Some was for you.”
Gina had learned a great deal about slaves in her time officiating the law, but the hodgepodge religions of each culture had never been one of them. She knew the zebras still had their own tribal gods, and the minotaurs had given themselves over completely to Unity. They had their own temples, their own priestly orders—like simpler imitations of the true faith. But the enslaved ponies weren’t quite either one. They seemed to believe whatever was convenient at the time. Even Isabel.
“I’ve never seen any bird survive a gut wound like that, Isabel,” she said. Using the same voice she might’ve used to tell a fledgling that they wouldn’t ever be able to cast spells like a pony. “I know a bit of medicine. The contents of the intestine leaks into the chest cavity, and the whole thing goes septic. Organs start to rot. It’s an agonizing way to die, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. Except for the Old Magic.”
“Which he refused,” the unicorn added, sounding only a little defensive. “Because he was too good to trade lives. And he won’t need to. Unity won’t let him die. The ponies will save him.”
Gina couldn’t help but argue. After everything she’d seen—with as hopeless as the future looked ahead of them, she had less and less reason to be optimistic. “If he’d taken the lives that offered themselves for him, Virtue wouldn’t have looked so weak. Maybe Santiago would’ve waited a few years to try whatever treason he’s plotting. What if Unity doesn’t save him? The law permits slaves to volunteer for a spell like that. Maybe he could’ve had enough Virtue to raking follow it.”
Isabel stopped walking, an actual glare forming on her face for a few seconds. “It wouldn’t have been wrong for him to follow the law,” she said. Her voice suddenly seemed small. Almost as though she were afraid to tell Gina what she was thinking. But then she looked around—at the wasteland all around them—and she said it anyway. “Most citizens follow the law and no more. They’re afraid of it. Afraid of birds like you coming to take their wealth and power away. But then there’s Velar. He doesn’t do what he does because he’s afraid of punishment, he does it because it’s the right thing to do. He didn’t take one of his slaves to save him because then he wouldn’t be Velar. He was only hurt in the first place because he went out into a duel to help a slave.”
Suddenly Gina understood. Isabel’s defense, her faith in his survival, everything. “You didn’t come up with this yourself.”
It wasn’t a question. The unicorn shook her head. “Lots of ponies were talking about it. Pierre from the palace, he was the one who actually volunteered the information. One of the heir’s teachers… language instructor, I think. But the prince sent him back to his family. And Pierre told his wife, and she told…”
“I get it,” Gina sighed. Maybe I shouldn’t. But she was in far too much pain for good judgement. “Velar fought, you know. He’s killed more birds than most. He helped destroy house Purity. We had plenty of virtue too. More than clan Virtue ever had. If Purity was on the throne right now, there wouldn’t even be a question about invasion. And birds would still respect the law. Maybe Unity wouldn’t have punished us with Mons Ignis in the first place.”
It was Isabel’s turn for a bitter laugh. “Of course, mistress.” That stung even more than an argument would have. I know better than you, but you’re protected from it because of your position.
Gina shook her head once. “I’m sorry to question you, Isabel. I don’t have anything against the heir, if that’s what’s bothering you. I don’t mean to take your hope away. Maybe the ponies really can do medical miracles like they claim.” Or maybe they’re just going to put him somewhere no one can see and then use the Old Magic themselves. The prince would be too delirious with illness to really notice by then.
But Gina was beginning to realize that she didn’t actually know the Equestrians as well as she hoped she did. Her one brief visit in childhood had done little to prepare her for the potential war on the horizon. Their males could be just as brave (and stupid) as birds.
But a few ships of sailors couldn’t defeat the most skilled and ruthless killers in all Accipio.
They walked in silence again for a long time, long enough for both of them to cool down.
Gina stopped when the sun was getting low, unable to drag her hooves for much longer.
Besides, this seemed like a great campsite. A little wood of trees clustered around a dry riverbed, many of which were turning yellow or brown from lack of water. Those that weren’t already dead would be soon.
“Get as many of the greenest leaves you can,” Gina said, settling onto a clear patch of ground to rest. “We’re going to make a signal fire right before sunset. Maybe one of our patrols will see it.”
“Gideon might see it and turn around,” Isabel offered, but she went to work anyway. The pony labored without complaint, and soon enough they had a gigantic bonfire.
It was already plenty warm without it, so they kept it far away—just outside the boundaries of the wood, in fact. Any closer and Gina feared it might just set the whole thing ablaze, and earn them accusations of ecological sabotage along with the long list of real war crimes.
I wonder if we’ve crossed into Accipian territory yet. Is this still Equestria? She couldn’t remember exactly where the ship had been on the map in relation to the border. Certainly it had to be close by now. After as long as they’d walked…
They shared a few strips of dried fruit stolen from an Equestrian ration, then curled up together in the gloom. Ponies and birds were both social sleepers, after all. At least the civilized ones were.
It was pitch black when Gina finally awoke, her ears full of the sound of engines. She felt stiff, and her bad wing felt like it might tear right off her back. But she forced herself to stand, looking around the clearing.
She barely even noticed the pony shapes—dark-furred creatures that carried no lights and hardly even moved. But there were a few scraps of moonlight streaming down from around them, enough to outline the batlike wings, the dark purple armor, the rifles pointed at her.
“You’re awake,” said one of the ponies, emerging from the gloom to stand beside her. His weapon was undrawn on his back, but close enough for him to reach it quickly if he needed to. “Good. Captain wants you aboard yesterday.”
“We’ll need…” Isabel sounded half-asleep, but was apparently waking quickly. “Transport up. Gina can’t fly, I don’t have wings, I…”
“We can tell,” said another pony voice. A female, high and squeaky. But all these ponies were a little like that. “Outrigger is on its way down. Just stay there and don’t give us a reason to shoot you.”
The little boat touched down a few moments later, landing in the clearing beside their now-dead fire. The bats led them aboard, pointing weapons the whole way. Gina had apparently gotten worse during the night, because her limbs were so stiff they barely worked. At least she managed not to provoke the ponies to shoot her.
Then up they went, as the tiny airship lifted towards something far larger high above, something made from dark metal and with the obvious outlines of guns bristling along its edges. Its outline was strange to her, though she could tell at a glance it was at least the equal to a destroyer. Unity the whole thing is made of metal. How do they keep it in the sky?
Their captors seemed to see her staring. “Hold still,” ordered a gruff voice. “You’re going to be blindfolded. Do not resist.”
“They’re blind enough already,” said a tiny voice from the other side of the boat. “You know how griffons are in the dark.”
“How everypony is,” added someone else.
“Orders are orders,” said the first voice. “You’re going straight to the captain. Accipio has a lot to answer for.”
“That’s perfect,” Gina said, without hesitation. “Because your captain is exactly the one we want to see. We need his help—both our nations might depend on it.”
Gina didn’t have a chance to struggle. As little as she thought of the fierceness of ponies, she wasn’t going to test them in combat. It wasn’t really fair to take the victory of the best warriors in Accipio against a crew of unprepared sailors as proof that no pony anywhere could be a danger to her.
These bats in particular were unlike the ponies she had seen before. Every bat she’d ever seen had been in some kind of military position or another. Escorting Princess Luna, pulling her chariot. Now here aboard an unnamed pony airship with unknown capabilities.
“We’re not going to resist,” Isabel said, as they were dragged through metal passages aboard the ship. “You don’t need to restrain Gina. Look at her wings. She needs a doctor.”
“We’ll be the judge of that,” said a rough voice above them. “You can inform the captain of your need. What she does with that information is her decision.”
“It’s okay, Isabel,” Gina whispered, though of course they were surrounded by enemies and every word would be overheard. “They’ll see how important our mission is. They’ll help.”
They didn’t make it much further before whoever was tugging on the ropes around Gina’s hooves stopped tugging.
“You stand before Captain Caliginous,” said a voice from somewhere behind her. “Give her proper respect.”
Her? Strange commander for a warship. But Gina lowered her head politely. “Captain Caliginous. As you can see our situation is desperate. As desperate as the rest of Equestria and Accipio both if we don’t act quickly.”
“Remove their blindfolds,” instructed a voice from across the room. Deep, mature, but with the same squeaking quality as the other ponies here. “Let me see them clearly.”
Something brushed against her head, untying the blindfold in a few quick strokes.
These were clearly the captain’s quarters—they stood in an expensive stateroom, with gold inlay set into the solid wooden furniture. There was a wealth of books in the shelf behind the captain, and another shelf filled with tiny models of ships.
The captain herself was an older pony, with streaks of gray running through her otherwise purplish mane. She was indeed a bat like the other crewmen, though she wore her coat with the same distinction as any naval captain. She also wore a sword on her belt, instead of a gun. I wonder if that’s for show. A female who knows how to fight?
“Do you know why I’m here?” The captain was settled into a comfortable chair across the table. From behind them, several soldiers shoved Gina and Isabel into similar chairs. Light despite their apparent sturdiness.
“Answer the captain’s question,” barked a voice from behind them. The male who’d escorted them up here.
Captain Caliginous waved one wing in his direction. “Give them a break, Silver Moon. They look like they’ve been walking for days.”
“To escape the scene of the crime,” Silver Moon muttered, but he stepped back all the same.
All eyes were on Gina now. The ponies seemed to be watching Isabel, but they both knew she wasn’t going to explain. “It’s…” She hesitated another few moments. She hadn’t actually expected to have to do this so soon.
And to the enemy. Even if she told these ponies nothing but the truth, they might not believe her. Or they might decide not to let them return to Accipio to inform the emperor of how dire the situation was. They would want their own leadership to know, for certain.
Gina reached down, to her neck, watching as the ponies all around her tensed. But in vain, because a moment later she lifted her claw with her Imperial Seal, sliding it across the table to the captain. “My name is Gina of house Virtue. I served as imperator of the Accipian ship Lapwing, sent to retrieve some birds of house Vengeance that were overstaying their welcome up in Griffonstone.”
The captain inspected the seal closely. Then she rose, removing a volume from the bookshelf behind her, and opening it. She skimmed through its pages as she brought it back to the table, before settling on the one she wanted. Gina couldn’t really read it from that far away, but she could see at a glance that it was indeed filled with sketches and political information.
She nodded. “Well, this is authentic. So either you are an imperator, or you killed one. Finding you broken and bloody in the wilderness and not on your ship doesn’t help your case.”
“Or finding the corpse of the Wayfarer,” added Silver Moon from behind her, a little anger seeping into his words. “Which you obviously destroyed. Burned that way with your illegal cannons.”
“The Lapwing did not have cannons,” Gina said. “But it is responsible for the death of the Wayfarer.”
“Huh?” There was genuine surprise in his voice. Gina glanced over her shoulder, and saw his jaw hanging open. “You’re actually… admitting to an act of war?” He straightened. “Captain, I think we’ve heard enough. I’ll measure a rope for the—”
“You will do no such thing.” She extended another wing towards him, glowering at him. “There is some information missing. There were the corpses of two ships. That leaves two unaccounted for. The Flash Magnus, and the Sister of Balance if I’m not mistaken. Along with a large number of pony crew and presumably the rest of the griffons as well.” Her eyes settled on Gina again. “I expect you to tell me everything. If you think your status or your office will make you immune to the consequences of your actions—”
Gina nodded. “It wasn’t something we did. That’s why my—” She stopped herself, nodding slightly towards the pony beside her. “That’s why we’re walking instead of riding that ship.”
And across the moment of no return she went. “There was a mutiny.” She described what had happened in detail—the docking, the inspection. The way Captain Skysword had provoked the crew. All the way through to the moment Gideon turned the ship into a fireball and Isabel saved her life.
“Then we landed,” she finished, lamely. “And we’ve been making for Accipio ever since.”
“So you can claim the ponies attacked you,” Silver Moon said from behind her, voice as hard-edged as it had been when he first spoke. “So you can blame Equestria for your act of war.”
“You’re really stupid,” Isabel said, glaring at him with contempt on her face. “If we were going to lie to the Emperor, why wouldn’t we have lied to you too? Gina had no reason to tell you all that, except that she’s a bird of honor and we need your help.”
“To do the exact opposite,” Gina added. “Gideon only would’ve killed me to prevent me from telling the truth. That means he probably is going to lie, tell the Emperor that the ship was attacked and destroyed, that they had no choice but to defend themselves. He’s trying to provoke a war.”
“He did that,” the captain said. But there was no anger in her voice. Only pain. Like someone who could look up at the landslide coming down on her, but couldn’t fly away in time. She saw what had sucked the desire to keep fighting out of Gina. The inevitable war.
“Yes,” Gina agreed. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be with all of Accipio. Gideon and his crew were following the orders of Clan Lord Santiago of Vengeance. They’re probably the ones who have been preparing for war all this time. Maybe if we make it back to the emperor before anything we can’t reverse happens… maybe that war could be Equestria and Accipio against the ones who actually want to hurt you.”
It would be the first time in history anything like it had ever happened. Dividing the units of an enemy nation were common tactics, but Accipio had never involved foreign armies in their own internal wars before.
But Gideon made sure it wouldn’t be an internal war when he destroyed that Equestrian ship. First the slaves, then the guns, now this.
It might very well be time for the death of another great house. And it was at least partially Gina’s fault.
“I need to consult with the admiralty,” Caliginous said. “Report what you just told us. It’s possible they’ll allow me to help you. I wouldn’t want to get your hopes up, though. The Heart's Shadow is one of our newest, most advanced airships. Taking the chance that she might fall into enemy hooves right before the beginning of a war… I don’t know if they’ll listen.”
Gina nodded gravely. “As long as I’m aboard, my seal and I will protect your ship. I swear on my life to see you permitted out of Accipian territory again unmolested.”
For birds that would’ve been good enough. But she could see the captain’s expression hadn’t really changed. She didn’t think that would be enough to convince her superiors. Or maybe it wasn’t enough to convince her.
“And tell them something else,” Gina went on. She was going above her authority now. But considering how badly things had already gone, she couldn’t exactly be punished more. What was the point of retaining her position if all of Accipio burned for it? “Tell them if they help us, I’ll tell you what we discovered in the Griffonstone monastery. I think they’d be interested to know what house Vengeance was doing with the place.”
“You’ll tell us right now,” said Silver Moon from behind her, drawing his sword an inch or so from its scabbard.
Gina laughed in his face. “Yes, because I believe for two seconds you’re going to torture or kill one of the emperor’s imperators in cold blood. Probably the only bird in the whole world who has a chance of preventing total war between Equestria and Accipio.” She spun around in her chair. “Go ahead, Silver Moon. Make my day.”
“That’s enough.” Caliginous thumped one hoof on the table. “Silver Moon, you will treat our guests with the respect of foreign diplomats… for the moment. I’m going to radio naval intelligence and ask for orders.”
“Radio?” Isabel asked, repeating the word with obvious curiosity.
They got only silence in response. The captain and several soldiers hurried out, leaving Silver Moon and another guard. This one was a unicorn, levitating a rifle at the ready. Though not actually pointed at them. She seemed relieved that she hadn’t needed to use it.
“I don’t like any of this,” Silver Moon announced, though Gina wasn’t sure exactly who he was saying it to. “Lost the ship right out from under you? Need our newest warship to escort you into Accipio on her first deployment? Something stinks about this plan.”
Gina shrugged. “I had friends aboard the Lapwing, Silver Moon. I’d known Captain Hookbeak since I was young. Gideon almost certainly murdered him. And Hogarth, one of my sla—a member of my household. He was a witness too. I’m sorry if you lost someone aboard one of those ships. But if you don’t help us, a lot of ponies and griffons are going to lose many more people. Even if… even if you think this is a war you can win easily. If we can’t stop the bloodshed completely, understand that I can minimize it. That’s why the emperor sent me out here in the first place.”
Silver Moon stared at her a long time. She could see the tension in his body, legs prepared to spring. Maybe he’d been preparing to attack her, or just to do something unbecoming while the captain wasn’t here to stop him. But he grumbled under his breath, turning away from her. “No reason for the two of you to be waiting in here. Even if Command approves us to help you, it will be hours into New Scythia. Medical is up one level, come with me.”
He gestured at the door the captain had left through.
A few hours later, and she stood atop the deck of the Equestrian warship, wind blasting all around them so fast she felt like she might be swept off into the sky if she even twitched wrong. But they were headed south. Maybe they could stave off the end of the world a little longer.
Velar sat in the garden courtyard of the Canterlot General Hospital, pretending that he wasn’t a prisoner. It wasn’t hard—his guards kept their presence discrete, and they hadn’t tormented him with shackles or any other indignities. He hadn’t missed the armed guards always lurking just out of sight—but as long as they didn’t keep him locked up inside anymore, that didn’t matter.
The Equestrians might not be much for war, but damn if they didn’t know how to keep a garden. There were so many different flowers, so much that was alive, he could almost pretend he was safe behind the walls of a Virtue monastery.
Starlight Glimmer hadn’t come back with more secrets for him to give away, and Velar was beginning to wonder if she ever would. Maybe the ponies would keep him captive in this garden until his father agreed to give up everything that Accipio had won for themselves. Except he never would, which meant that Velar would live here until he died.
Or until a commando team could extract him. There were plenty of skilled servants of the crown who weren’t griffons. Plenty who could slip into Equestrian territory and get out again.
Of course there was one aspect of being here that he could never mistake—the way that the ponies acted. Sure, the doctors treated him with respect, they still told stories of the way he’d turned down griffon medicine in favor of their own pony method. But the visitors, the other patients—Velar knew revulsion when he saw it.
But why were so many of them afraid of him?
Velar didn’t walk around the grounds covered in blood, and he didn’t come at every pony child with glittering claws and a snapping beak. He sat calmly in the shade, watching the equestrian weather crews work the sky, and occasionally said a few words of greeting to the gardener.
“Don’t get too close,” he had heard a young mother whisper, shuffling her young child away from him. “Don’t look at him.”
But today things were different. The sky above Canterlot had gone hazy, and no weather team had arrived to clear it. He couldn’t hear the usual rumble of carts from outside the hospital either, or the cheery voices of ponies form within the building. There wasn’t a single other patron in the garden with him.
He tried asking his guards—without success. When that failed, Velar could do nothing but return to his comfortable place and hope that Equestria would need him. He’d already given his word to Starlight that he wouldn’t try to escape. He could revoke it if he could tell her in person. But until then, he might as well be wearing iron manacles for all his chances of escaping. If a team of Accipian infiltrators broke into the hospital right now, they would have to restrain him to get him away. He’d given his word.
Eventually someone did come—not the commandos. But Starlight Glimmer. She wasn’t followed by a member of hospital security, but a squad of half a dozen Royal Guards, all wearing the full armor of war.
Velar rose from his perch, and felt only a slight moment of discomfort at his gut. While the short fur there was a little embarrassing, there was no chance of his insides spilling out onto the dirt anymore. Zoya had been wrong about Equestrian medicine after all. It could do every incredible thing Starlight Glimmer had promised.
“Hey, Starlight,” Velar said, without any of the formality he’d always observed around her in Accipio. “All this for our date?”
The unicorn almost tripped on the bridge and slipped into the shallow pond. But she composed herself, and settled onto the hill beside him with a bit of magic. The soldiers didn’t get any closer, but spread out to cover the doors. Velar recognized that wariness. These were veterans, and they expected genuine danger here. Strange that they weren’t watching him with fear. So what do they know that I don’t know?
“Unfortunately not,” Starlight said. She sounded pained—afraid, maybe. Or she’d been crying. “You need to come with us. Equestria is under attack. There are warships on their way to Canterlot right now. We’re taking you into protective custody.”
“Warships?” He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t resist. Two of the soldiers had stopped on the other side of the bridge, ready to compel him if he fought. Besides, this hospital was no home to Velar. He’d rather be wherever these ponies were going anyway. At least as a political bargaining chip he would be doing something. “My father declared war, then?”
“No,” Starlight said. “He hasn’t. We haven’t had any formal contact with him since the withdrawal from New Scythia.”
“Whatever’s happening, my father would not invade without a formal declaration of war. Unity is displeased when your enemy does not receive an honest chance to defend himself. Strength should triumph, not trickery.”
“Tell the warships that,” Starlight muttered, though there was something of her old humor in her voice when she said it. “Just come with me, Velar. Maybe you’ll be helpful like before. I’m sure Celestia would be grateful for your advice.”
“I won’t betray Accipio,” he said, walking slowly towards her. Slow enough that the guards wouldn’t think he was attacking her. He had nothing with him, no possessions of his own. It wasn’t as though he could read a book alone here in the dark. Had to be able to read to do that. “But I don’t think this is a war. If I had to guess, I’d say one of the great houses has decided to force both of us into the conflict they really wanted. My guess is the warships came from just one city, and they’ll be flying just one flag.”
But Starlight didn’t confirm his suspicions until they had made their way out of the hospital and into a waiting chariot—a chariot with metal walls and no horses to drive it. Yet it started to rumble forward up the slope towards the castle anyway.
Velar wanted to ask exactly what was going on, maybe have Starlight explain the strange machine to him—but he didn’t get the chance.
“It didn’t start with the warships,” she said. “Not the ones heading for Canterlot right now. It started yesterday, when one of your ships attacked three of ours.”
“Which ship?” Velar asked, settling into the seat across from Starlight. Any desire to tease her about the date he was still waiting for faded away in the seriousness of her accusations. “Do you know its name? I know most ships in my father’s navy.”
“The Lapwing,” Starlight replied, not even hesitating to consider. She seemed on the edge of panic every minute, rocking slowly back and forth. She looked like she needed a hug. “It was destroyed. Along with the Wayfarer. Both went down with all hooves, we think. And the Flash Magnus and Sister of Balance got away. Stars only know where they went, but we’re pretty sure ponies weren’t the ones commanding them when they flew off. They could’ve reached three ports by now, even if they were reduced to flying with sails.”
“The Lapwing…” Velar repeated. “That was Hookbeak’s sloop. Used to carry… ten eighteen-pound guns, I think. But we left those behind in Accipio. So far as I know, she was completely unarmed. Like most of the ships in my father’s navy. There’s been talk of taking them apart to make cheap houses, but…” He trailed off. Starlight wasn’t interested in the supply side of Griffon naval logistics.
“Was Hookbeak a fierce warrior?” Starlight asked, urgent. “We’re trying to figure out why that ship was trying to run the blockade in the first place. But they were on their way from Griffonstone, whatever the reason.”
“You told me there were birds who wouldn’t leave holed up in there,” Velar said. “Maybe they were the ride. If my father told you he was going to do something, then he was. If that meant obeying a treaty, then he’d obey the treaty. That’s the way house Virtue works.”
Starlight Glimmer stared down at her hooves for a long time, silent. Outside the carriage, they were pulling through the gates of Canterlot Castle. The carriage window gave him an ample view of the near-mythical Equestrian capital. This was the city that no invading army had ever held. Several had walked through these streets over the years, but none of them could keep them.
Now here he was, being led inside almost like an honored guest. “Let’s try and figure this out,” Velar said, resting one wing gently on Starlight’s shoulder for a moment. She straightened, staring down at it, but didn’t push him away.
“O-okay.”
“So, there was a battle between pony ships and a griffon ship. Two ships go down, and the survivors end up aboard a couple of pony ships, you don’t know where they went.”
“Not yet.” Starlight winced. “We sent a warship to track them down. They were the ones who told us about the battle. They brought pictures as well, but there won’t be any forensic experts to go over them if Canterlot burns to the ground.”
“You know the warships are coming,” Velar said, ignoring the remark. “Sightings? Our engines could outpace a pony in flight. Why aren’t we under attack already?”
“Because…” Starlight looked like she didn’t want to say. Then she said anyway. “Because the messages came by telegraph. Even small towns have their own stations by now. It was obvious from their direction where they were headed. There isn’t anything else of strategic value this way.”
“It’s… a strategy we’ve been thinking about for a long time,” Velar admitted. He could see Starlight pull away as he said it, eyes widening. He extended his claws flat in a pacifying gesture. “Not since the treaty! Before that! Equestria was the one country we could never conquer. We’ve tried… Lots of invasions never succeeded. Talking about how it might actually succeed is like… a common conversation in wine houses. Everyone likes to armchair general, you know.”
“I don’t,” Starlight said. She still looked shaken by the news. “But tell me anyway. What are they doing?”
Their carriage seemed to be heading straight for a wall—at least until the wall opened. There was a ramp under there, with pony soldiers assembled inside. Electric lights glowed an even amber inside, directing them towards parts unknown.
“Trying to fix the mistakes with all the previous invasions,” Velar said. “I’ll… spare all the explanation and cut right to the point. It doesn’t matter if we’re better supplied, if we’re better fighters, or if we’re better armed. In the end every war with Equestria has been lost because you have Alicorns and we don’t. The Old Magic can work well enough against your unicorns when we’re prepared to pay with blood, but there’s not enough blood in the whole world to do what your Alicorns can do. There’s some speculation that even if we won so long as Celestia was alive she might just cook the planet out of spite. Those who… believe she actually does anything with the sun, I mean.”
They settled to a stop alongside many similar carriages. He got a few seconds to appreciate the mechanism on one of them—a delicate framework of brass and spinning gears—before the doors opened and guards were ushering them out.
“They’re not going for Canterlot,” Starlight said. “They’re trying to kill the princesses.”
He nodded, following her past a checkpoint of more armored pony guards, then into a long, twisting stairwell. He barely even watched the guards shepherding them in. “That’s how you make the war go better this time. Your generals and ships and armies can all be replaced, but Alicorns not so much. Though… I guess you have a few more now. I haven’t had a conversation like this since before anyone in Accipio knew that. I don’t know what the old strategies planned for them.”
Somewhere high above, Velar heard the first explosion.
Velar feared he might be kept underground until the conflict had ended—maybe the entire thing would be over and he would only discover the victor after the fact.
Apparently his cooperating with Starlight Glimmer was starting to pay off, because instead of shut into a cell, he was led through the caverns.
It was beauty like he’d never quite seen in Accipio. Caves that had grown spectacular formations of crystal and gemstone, with walkways elevated above the floor and lit with strings of electric lights concealed below them. The path had the look of a tourist attraction about it, with placards set into the wall to identify particularly interesting formations, and railing along the side to stop visitors from damaging the cave.
Except that instead of tourists, the ponies he saw down here were soldiers. Some looked like the veterans who had brought him, with old polish on their uniforms and dents on their weapons. Most looked like recruits. They scattered from before their group as they passed through, watching Velar himself with open hostility.
But Starlight led the way, and she fixed anyone who slowed them down with a glare so acidic that none of the soldiers stopped them.
“What is this place?” he dared to ask, when they’d been walking for at least five minutes and still the maze made no sign of stopping.
“Somewhere an enemy once used against us,” Starlight Glimmer said. “Caves go through the whole mountain, almost. There’s discussion about whether Canterlot is really built on a mountain at all, or else if maybe we’re walking through the ruins of incredibly ancient cities, all stacked on top of each other. Maybe Celestia builds her capital in the same place each time, covering each one up with rock before building again.”
Then she stopped, ears flattening. “What does any of that matter? The world might be ending over our heads. In a few months maybe Celestia will cover up Canterlot and it will be time to start all over again.” She hesitated, listening to another explosion.
They sounded like twenty pound guns, but Velar couldn’t hear the impacts. His ears must be lying to him—it sounded like the guns were firing at something solid and glassy, and it wasn’t breaking. Like they’d decided to attack a glacier.
“Where are we going?”
She hesitated another second. But it wasn’t like she’d been very good at keeping secrets today. “To the flagship. Celestia hopes that putting you on it will make them less willing to shoot it. Maybe force them to talk.”
Velar actually laughed. “Might be more effective to paint bright red targets and signal your flight pattern if you don’t want you ship shot down. Unity desert me if those aren’t Vengeance ships. Last time I did anything for a bird in Vengeance, he shot me in the back. I’m sure these birds would take special pleasure in killing me, if they could. Vengeance might’ve sent assassins, except Santiago probably thought I was as good as dead. Just like everyone else…”
Starlight looked away from him. “You can tell Princess Luna that if you like. She’ll be commanding the Stalwart Stratus. But you probably won’t convince her. I hope you’re wrong, since I’ll be with you.”
“I’m not,” Velar said. “How good are the Stalwart Stratus’s defenses?”
She didn’t answer. Probably she couldn’t—Starlight Glimmer wasn’t a pony of war, and that information was probably secret besides. Velar walked in silence until they made it to a mechanical lift, then settled down as they started to ascend.
And if he hadn’t been silent already, the shipyard certainly would’ve done the trick.
The cavern was massive—easily larger than the Impervious Triumph, though not by much. Ribs of steel and support walkways ran along its edges. Technicians of every kind wandered around down there, so small from this distance that he could barely see their outlines.
The elevator shaft was open so they could look right in at the ship docked there—a creation of shining metal barely half the size this drydock could’ve contained. What are the ponies thinking with all their small ships? But he didn’t ask them that, only stared in fascination.
“I suppose if I asked you how many places like this there were, you couldn’t tell me,” Velar said.
Starlight looked up, but didn’t open her mouth before one of their escorts laughed from behind him, loudly. “Starlight doesn’t know,” one of them said.
“I don’t know,” she agreed, obviously not meaning it.
They came to a stop along an upper walkway. There was a flurry of activity out here—ponies rushing around pushing wooden crates onto or off the massive ship. Most of the ponies already on board wore the blue and white of Equestrian Navy uniforms. A dozen at least were armored marines.
Velar's old strategic mind switched on involuntarily, and he started looking for vulnerabilities. His trip up the elevator had shown him thirty guns on this side, presumably the same number on the other. He could find no air intakes, no obvious location for the fuel or powder magazine. All that metal would make these ships a damn nuisance to take down.
Princess Luna stood at the edge of the docks, apparently waiting for them.
There were ancient stories about war with Equestria—more than he could remember. Though many of them had obviously been corrupted by time, a few details remained salient. The Alicorns were always creatures of terrible beauty in battle, taller and mightier than the strongest griffon. Only a warrior in Voidsteel had any hope of besting them. Though some of those stories told of brave champions and previous Alicorns now slain, there was no way to verify they were true.
Now Velar could see why. Princess Luna seemed to radiate solid darkness from around her. Clouds rolled from near her hooves, and the electric lights were tinged with moonlight. Her mane shone through her helmet in a curtain of stars.
He’d seen the Equestrian princesses before, during the initial rounds of negotiation and then again when they visited New Scythia. They had seemed mightier than regular ponies, but in a mundane sort of way. Just a taller version of what he’d seen hundreds of times. Now he could see that they’d fooled him.
Velar swallowed once. He was beginning to wonder if the attackers outside stood any kind of a chance. “I guess this is our stop.”
On the other side of the world, Gina could see New Scythia had come alive. Even at a great distance, the corpses of the old ships in the desert were swarming with birds. But what are they preparing for? Those ships don’t have weapons anymore.
Whatever else the Equestrians might think of their betrayal, Gina had inspected those vessels only a month ago, when she had tracked down and captured a crew of scavengers stripping some of their valuables. There was no supply of secret cannons to re-arm them with. What would they do, ram the Equestrian Navy?
Maybe the old one. But the ship they stood on now would not be beaten so easily. Through methods Gina couldn’t even guess at, the ponies had found a way to make their ships from metal that was light enough to fly. She scratched at the railing with one claw when she thought that no pony was watching, but it wasn’t so weak that she could just break it away at a touch.
Now probably isn’t the best time to ask them what supernatural material they’re using. Whatever it was probably made for an imposing sight on the horizon of New Scythia. And if Gina wasn’t there, it might only serve to reinforce everything that Gideon had testified.
But Gina was there. They had already been stopped several times by patrols—little ships, with crews carrying old-fashioned crossbows. Gina presented her seal, and told them that she had to reach the emperor as quickly as possible. These were Virtue birds—a few even recognized her.
And even if they hadn’t, what were the unarmed patrols going to do to a mighty warship like the Heart's Shadow. Even if they did have cannons, they might’ve bounced right off that impenetrable metal armor.
Assuming it was as strong as the steel plates sometimes attached to the side of the best airships.
Not my job to worry about. All of this is about to be out of my claws.
Despite its name, New Scythia looked like a primitive imitation of the city it had replaced. Nothing they could claw out of this desolate wilderness could compare to the masterpiece of engineering and capital housing centuries of wealth.
But she could make out the palace even from a great height. So that was where they stopped—not quite right overhead, in case the birds below feared they had come to bomb them. But close enough that the flight would be direct.
She would’ve flown right down, and wanted to. But her sprained wing was now wrapped tightly in a sling. The Equestrian doctors had assured her she would heal normally, so long as she didn’t fly for the next two weeks. So the ponies were prepping a longboat.
“I’m coming with you,” said the captain, nodding towards a few of her marines. “Them too. I’m prepared for emergency negotiations on the part of Equestria—at least until somepony with more authority arrives.”
Gina grumbled vague displeasure—but she wasn’t really in any place to say no. They had done everything she’d hoped for and more. Whether the emperor considered the price she had paid worth what she could give remained to be seen.
He wasn’t going to like the news, that much was certain. But if he actually went to war against Equestria…
“I guess you are,” Gina said, glancing up at the longboat. She couldn’t exactly see what pushed the thing—it didn’t have sails, or a gas motor like griffon ships used. More of their strange crystal-magic then.
They boarded, and Gina directed them to the palace. As they descended on the city, dozens of Imperial Guards joined them—an impressive achievement considering the weight of that steel armor. They’d somehow flown all the way up here, crossbows and all.
They touched down on the palace steps, which were positively swarming with soldiers. They all pointed weapons at the ships, barking various threats and insults in their direction. Gina rose first, whispering for everyone else to stay down.
Even Captain Caliginous obeyed her this time.
Gina held up the medallion. “I’m here to deliver a message to Emperor Gaius. I must reach him immediately. Because of the nature of my message, I’ve brought an Equestrian in authority for immediate negotiations.”
There was silence for a long time. Eventually Anthony emerged from the soldiers, wearing bright purple over his robes and carrying something Gina hadn’t seen in some time—a rifle. She recognized the design—that had come from the Griffonstone factory.
“Gina,” he said, staying high up on the steps. “I thought you were dead.”
“Gideon wanted me dead,” she responded, smiling ruefully. “But he had some difficulty with that.” She took another step forward. None of the birds shot her. “Please, let us pass. Or let me, anyway. And treat these guests with respect. I would not be here without Captain Caliginous’s hospitality.”
Anthony considered for a few more moments, glancing from Gina to the pony longboat, then up into the air. “That’s quite the escort you brought,” he said.
“I would’ve preferred to come on the Lapwing,” Gina responded. “Except that Gideon blew it up. It was what we could find.”
From behind her, Captain Caliginous actually laughed, very quietly. Thank Unity we didn’t bring her second too. Lieutenant Silver Moon would’ve said something stupid.
Anthony nodded, reluctantly. “Very well. The emperor is with his war council. I guess this isn’t an invasion if the captain came down with two marines.”
The column adjusted. Birds opened a path, and Gina glanced over her shoulder. She gestured, and the ponies finally rose. They left the longboat right where it was, resting gently on the palace steps.
Then they went inside, with the future of two nations following them.
In other circumstances, Starlight Glimmer probably would’ve greatly enjoyed this day. After all her time traveling with Velar, after listening to all his petty superiority and unwarranted confidence, there was some cosmic justice in seeing his face when they wandered into Canterlot Drydock C. If only she’d managed to get a camera in there, she could’ve hung that up on her wall.
But there wasn’t really time to enjoy the moment. If the world ended, she wouldn’t have a wall left to hang it on.
Princess Luna took them into the elevator, then straight down to the bridge. Ponies in naval uniforms were already at their stations, calling out pre-flight checks that must be meaningful to them but might as well be Prench to Starlight.
Princess Luna took them near the back, where a blue table of crystal rose up from the ship itself. Starlight had seen its like many times before—it was like the Cutie Map, reverse engineered from the one that had appeared in the same magic as Twilight’s castle. True, this one couldn’t detect esoteric interpersonal problems a nation away—or indeed anything past ten miles or so. But considering the scale of most naval conflicts, that was more than enough.
The city appeared in the magical projection, along with the solid bubble of its shield. There would be no keeping that magic away from Velar’s knowledge, then. But the princess obviously knew what she was doing. More than me. This conflict is partially my fault. Maybe Velar was right, and her ignorance had preserved the peace a little longer. Or maybe that was just more bluster. She didn’t really know anymore.
“You see the odds arrayed against us,” Princess Luna said. She gestured at the projection, and the three warships hovering in the air just outside. From the look of the rubble at the bottom of the mountain, there had been at least four to start with. I wonder how many tried to ram the shield.
Even cannon fire appeared on the projection, little flashes of orange and red that briefly brightened the shield where they struck, forming little cracks that healed almost as soon as they appeared. But Canterlot knew better than most cities that no shield was invulnerable. Cannons would get through it sooner than changelings physically ramming it would.
“I do,” Velar said, walking around the table and staring at the three ships. “These two are Falchions, they’re our largest class of ship. Mostly bombers and troop carriers. This one is a destroyer, I’m guessing she’s the escort.” He squinted at the little projection, eyes still wide. “What kind of magic is this? I knew ponies could produce illusions, but this. Is this showing us the real world, or just a guess? Unity, how easy are these to make? If we had these on every ship, we’d never lose a battle…”
A pony approached them—a unicorn with gold knots on her shoulders. The captain then. “Princess, preflight checks are complete and we are ready to deploy.” She narrowed her eyes, glaring at Velar. “Are you sure this prisoner doesn’t belong in the brig? He’s already seen much more than we wanted the griffons to know.”
“When this day is over, Captain Blason, the griffons will have seen most of our secrets. Unless we want to keep them in drydock and use the merchant marine through this war, we have to accept that reality.” She smiled then, though there was no humor in it. “Besides, Prince Velar is our hostage. If the situation escalates, nothing will force us to return him.”
The unicorn saluted, expression souring. “Very good, ma’am.”
“Take us out. Order the rest of the fleet to hold position above the palace. We won’t breach the shield until my word.”
“Aye!” She turned away, and began giving instructions to the ponies throughout the room. Glowing crystal controls practically lit themselves on fire with magic, while the low hum of a powerful engine somewhere far away shook Starlight through her hooves.
I don’t belong on a warship.
“Prince Velar,” the princess said again, a little more respectfully. “Why are these warships attacking our capital? I don’t know the patrol-routes from memory, but I’m guessing that they may’ve had to do some damage to get here. Pony blood has already been spilled, and they’re here to spill more of it.” Her smile transformed into a leer, mane becoming blacker until only a few faint specks of stars remained. “Do those ships really have the gall to think they could force a surrender by bombing Canterlot?”
Velar paced around the model again. He stared at the ships, looking at the smallest aspects like the guns and little flags. Starlight Glimmer couldn’t really make sense of what they were seeing at this level—she didn’t have the knowledge to fight a war. But Velar obviously did. As he inspected, the Stalwart Stratus slowly rose up through the caverns, following the path of glowing lights along the walls. Starlight was especially grateful she wasn’t the pony at the helm.
“These ships are Vengeance and Victory,” Velar eventually said. “Those are just empire flags, but I recognize the wood. Only Victory uses ash for their ships. They were the only house without a navy, so they didn’t have to worry about…” He trailed off. “Right, you don’t care about that.”
Captain Blason joined them at the table a moment later. She stood on Luna’s other side, though she remained attentive to her crew. But so long as they were just navigating through the tunnels, there wasn’t much for her to do.
Princess Luna’s expression remained neutral, though there was disdain in her voice, obvious to the crew close enough to overhear. “Let’s just say you can save trying to persuade us that your father hasn’t invaded us after the invasion is over. We can investigate these ships, we can interrogate the survivors. But don’t waste our time trying to convince me of that while pony lives are still at risk.”
Velar nodded curtly. He managed not to wet himself in the process, which seemed impressive enough. Starlight had seen ponies run in terror from Luna when she spoke like that. “Very well. Skipping all that, Vengeance believed the weakest possible estimates about pony strength. Before my injury, we had just discovered disturbing information that the agriculture infrastructure in Kios was still almost nonexistent. That suggests to me they were using their gold on something else. We know what, now.”
“This is obviously a trap,” Princess Luna said, a little louder. “Four ships cut their way to Canterlot. But in the process the merchant marine has been recalled and the navy is being deployed. They are hundreds of miles into Equestrian territory and cut off from escape. What insanity is this? Even if they thought our ships were unarmed, they must’ve known this was doomed. A trained weather-team could blow them out of the sky with a storm, or unicorns could burn their ships, or…”
“They could be that stupid,” Captain Blason said. “Birds always think they’re stronger than everyone else. And maybe they are, until they meet an earth pony, or a bison. But claws don’t help you much in a stampede.”
For a griffon, Prince Velar was doing a remarkable job not rising to remarks that Starlight would expect to enrage the birds of Accipio. Where was this discipline when the Wayfarer got taken down? If only the others were more like him.
“When we spoke,” Starlight began. “On the way here. You said they were probably targeting our princesses.”
Luna’s eyes fixed on him, but she didn’t interrupt.
Velar nodded. “I still think that’s likely. A serious attack on Canterlot is a bad strategic move, and there isn’t enough ordinance or soldiers on two bombers to take the city. And if I wanted to win a prolonged war with Equestria, I’d leave your seat of power alone. You bomb the houses of your citizen class, and they’ll be clamoring for war, voting for more military spending… you leave the city alone, and you have an indolent ruling class and a huge resource drain from its population as refugees flee here. So either Vengeance is even more ignorant of strategy than I thought, or they aren’t really aiming for the city.” His eyes finally settled on Luna. Or… almost. He didn’t seem able to meet her eyes for very long.
You and me both, Velar.
Sunlight suddenly poured in through the bridge windows. The whole thing was stained purple from the shield, like twilight but far brighter. Starlight could make out the outlines of three other ships gathered near the palace. The Stalwart Stratus would be the last to arrive.
“Whatever they’re planning, I think it would begin and end with assassinating you, Princess. And your sister. If you aren’t fighting for Equestria, our odds would be better than they have been in the past, cannons or no cannons. I don’t know what they’re planning on this time that we haven’t already tried.”
Captain Blason stared at Velar, her mouth hanging open. “Princess, you’re going to let a monster talk like that? After everything they’ve done to Equestria…”
Princess Luna shrugged one wing. “Velar is giving us the truth. Would you prefer he lie so his words are more palatable?”
“Of course not, Princess. Forgive me.” She stepped away, wandering back to her command chair.
“Many weapons have been used against us,” Princess Luna continued. “I am skeptical that anything they have would be different.”
They were headed straight for the griffon ships. Velar winced a little as cannon fire hit the shield between him and the enemy vessels, seeming to follow their ship specifically. Told you telling them about me wouldn’t work. But now seemed like a bad time to gloat about it.
The cannons firing at them weren’t of the old sort, either. That destroyer was firing another broadside every twenty seconds or so. Three times as fast as the muzzle-loaders he was used to. You didn’t just smuggle in old guns. You brought the designs for new ones and started there. The Impervious Triumph had guns like that, but not many simple destroyers. At least not when he’d been in command. I guess Vengeance figured out how to mass produce all those little gears.
Worse, the shield was cracking. The little damage he’d seen on the projection was now longer than a building, and getting wider. Cracks spread along the outside like a massive glacier thawing in spring. The enemy seemed to see it too, because the carriers had turned to broadside the shield as well. Each one only had four guns to a side, and they didn’t fire as often, but that was still more damage than the shield could take.
“What should we do, Princess?” asked the captain. “I don’t think we should stay here. They’re sighting us through the shield.”
Princess Luna didn’t hesitate, striding right past Velar to stand beside the captain. “Radio my command to the fleet. When that shield goes, their targets are those larger ships. I want them destroyed before Canterlot can be bombed. The destroyer is far more dangerous to us than Canterlot. Us and the Lavender Spirit will target the one on the left. The Hurricane and Lilac Sky, on the right.”
As she spoke, a pony near one of the many controls held something dark up to his mouth, muttering almost word for word what the princess was saying. Velar had never seen anything like it, but from the way he kept reacting, it seemed to him like he was hearing someone in response.
Great purply chunks of the shield began crumbling away from the point of impact, fading away to sparkles as they got further and further down.
She relaxed. “Captain Blason, this is your vessel. Accomplish my orders however you see fit.”
Blason saluted, then turned her back on them. It looked to Starlight as though she’d completely forgotten they were there. Even Velar, the one she hadn’t even wanted on her ship. “Helmspony, sound the altitude alarm and climb forty-five degrees. Pinpoint, forget about broadsides, we’ll use the sunbeam. Open the collectors. Let’s singe their wings.”
Another barrage of cannon fire rumbled in front of them, and the shield finally collapsed. Huge segments went tumbling down towards the city, and a few cannonballs soared around them, smacking into the stone far below.
Gina had never seen the palace in greater disarray.
A full detachment of soldiers seemed to be martialing outside, with birds doning old uniforms, testing swords and securing armor. She took her delegation past the prelude to war, up to the throne where Gaius sat already armored.
The metal he wore reflected the light like oil under moonlight, turning his outline into a dark suggestion of a bird more than the real thing. A massive warhammer sat on the ground beside the throne, as though he were ready to charge into battle at a moment’s notice.
Then they passed through the massive stone doors into the assembly hall, and left the last of the ordinary soldiers behind. It was all noble birds inside, surrounding a massive table filled with maps and diagrams instead of food. There was Lord Gerrard here too, in his own family’s armor, along with two other dark figures. Each of them belonged to noble families, hoarding the few irreplaceable sets of ancient masterworks. They were the only true answer to the Equestrian Alicorns. But they’ve never been enough to conquer Equestria, have they? The ponies are the ones sheltering us.
As they crossed through the room, it fell still. Gina heard birds whispering all around her—about the dead returning, and forbidden rites of the old magic that had been lost long ago. You idiots. You really think this is necromancy? But no one actually said so, and no bird lifted their weapons to stop her or the party she was leading. There were four groups of birds in here, one for each house—two of the groups seemed quite a bit smaller than the others. Santiago and Giovanni in particular were conspicuously absent, and instead one of Santiago’s lesser stewards was here for him. Archibald is the one representing a great clan during an invasion? Something isn’t right.
As they got close to the emperor’s throne, Gina glanced over her shoulder, speaking in a hushed whisper to her companions. “All of you, stay back. It isn’t proper for a non-bird to address the emperor without an invitation. I’ll introduce you, and after that…” She shrugged. Gina would be lucky if she wasn’t the one wearing a slave collar at the end of all of this.
As was proper, Gina removed the medallion from around her neck one last time, holding it up as she approached the throne. “Your Imperator returns to your service,” she said.
There was a long silence. Gina didn’t look up, but she did see the wide eyes of birds all around the room. It was possible the emperor would just kill her. Imperators held absolute authority over others just as the emperor did, but when they returned they always answered for their actions.
Gaius hadn’t killed any of his servants, though. He took the medallion.
“This is most curious,” said Empress Guinevere from the smaller throne. “To have a friend and loyal servant returned after one of our lords declared her dead.”
“Very curious,” Gaius agreed. He gestured subtly with one claw. It was such a minor gesture that the other birds didn’t seem to notice. But Gina saw soldiers closing the exit, shutting the door so quietly that it didn’t even echo. Upper entrances closed one after another, or were blocked by birds with crossbows. All without a word. “What do you think, Archibald? I think you should join us. To stand in Santiago’s place when my Imperator gives her testimony.”
Archibald wasn’t half as loathsome as some of the other Vengeance birds Gina had known. He wore only a toga as he made his way up to the emperor, not even a dagger. He didn’t so much as look at her. When he spoke, it was without spite. “She must have survived the crash after all,” he said. “Remarkable though that is. Unity has been known to preserve birds through worse.”
Gina didn’t speak—at least not until she got the emperor’s nod. She would have to be very careful. Statements directly impugning one of the noble houses were as good as an invitation to duel. Since she had no male relatives, that invitation would come from that of her house instead. The oldest male of that house being the emperor himself. “There is a traitor in house Vengeance,” she said instead. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I expect none of it is correct.”
Archibald finally seemed to see her. He turned, eyes narrowing to slits. “That seems hard to believe, Imperator. Gideon has served faithfully for many years. His honor is unblemished.”
She shrugged. “I do not know him or his honor,” she said, mostly to the emperor. “But I know he tried to kill me. I swear it on my life and office… and I was not alone.”
Archibald cleared his throat. “Lord Gaius, perhaps we should give this female more time to recover from her trip. She’s obviously delirious. Assuming the ponies haven’t poisoned her. She arrived on one of their ships. Perhaps they sent her here to disrupt our resolve on the eve of war.”
Gaius raised one claw to silence him. “Gina has served me faithfully. I can see she’s gone through great hardship to get here. She will tell her story. I am certain that story will explain why she used my authority to invite a powerful ship from a dangerous enemy directly into the capital while we are still preparing for war. I especially look forward to that part of her story.”
Gina nodded, taking one step away from Archibald. The bird was more of a clerk than a warrior, unlikely to attack her physically. But she didn’t intend to take chances.
Then she began. She told the whole story, with as much detail as she could remember. She omitted nothing, despite the ponies being there to listen. She’d already told them what Griffonstone was making to help convince them to take her. There was no real secret left there.
Eventually they came to the confrontation with the Equestrian ships on the border, and the room had become very quiet. She described Gideon’s betrayal, him igniting the ship and probably killing its crew, of the way Isabelle had saved her life. Their eventual rescue and the trip here.
“I believe Gideon is a traitor,” she finished. “To Accipio, anyway. It seems to me as though he nearly succeeded persuading you to invade Equestria and get revenge for an attack that he perpetrated in the first place. That is why Captain Caliginous has come. The Equestrian navy has granted her authority as an emergency negotiator. Equestria hopes to avoid a war, and so do I.”
The great assembly hall fell utterly still. Gina felt the eyes of many birds on her, particularly Archibald. There was shock on his face at her story—any objections he might’ve raised had all fallen away, and he looked only afraid.
“It is a late hour to sue for peace,” the emperor finally said. He gestured forward with one claw, and the captain approached with her marines. She didn’t bow to the emperor—but Gina wasn’t sure she could’ve made her no matter how many times she insisted.
“Equestria will not sit by and permit these attacks on its creatures and land,” Caliginous said, meeting the emperor’s eyes in his terrible armor without flinching. “But we would prefer to see only the guilty punished. A war will drown us all in blood.”
Gina began to retreat—she had no place in this conversation. She would probably never serve as an Imperator again, even if the emperor didn’t punish her for her failure. But either way, she had nothing more to add.
But the emperor stopped her with another subtle gesture of his claws. Gina sat down behind the unicorn captain, listening. This is probably where he punishes me for not stopping this sooner.
“I am afraid it might be too late,” Gaius said. “When we discovered… when we heard the earlier version of this story, there were only a few pony captives to interrogate. You had thrown our own crew overboard before the monks finally rose up and fought you off. Lord Santiago suspected treachery from Equestria, and he had been preparing for it from the beginning.” He gestured, and one of his marines approached from the wall. “Lance Corporal, your rifle.”
The uniformed marine extended one claw without a word, and the emperor took it. He spun it over once in the huge gauntlets of his Voidsteel armor, making the whole thing look like a toy. “We all thought using Griffonstone was genius. A way not to break the treaty and still be prepared for the knife in our back.”
“Lord Santiago appears to have been sharpening a knife of his own,” Guinevere muttered. She’d been scribbling something through most of the meeting—taking notes on Gina’s testimony, but she was still writing now. She barely even looked up. “How well do you think a dozen of our palace guards would do if his whole army is properly armed? After we’re tired from an Equestrian invasion, no doubt.”
“Is this a formal accusation of my lord?” Archibald had remained fearful and silent all this time, backing towards the handful of lords wearing Vengeance green. His voice shook a little as he spoke.
“I would prefer it wasn’t,” Gaius said. “If you can supply an alternate interpretation of what we’ve just heard here, please do so.” He leaned forward from his throne, and the wood creaked under the terrible weight of Voidsteel, metal squeaking against metal. “But use your words carefully. Imperator Gina has served my family long and faithfully. Given the evidence, I will not look fondly on suggestions that impugn her testimony.”
Archibald moved uneasily on his claws, shifting between her and the pony captain. “Then let me suggest only that she obviously suffered very seriously in the destruction of the Lapwing. Strong males have suffered injuries that never healed. It was ponies who recovered her, probably led there by her pony slave. Ponies whispering these things in her ears while she was delirious and had their strange pony medicines in her veins.”
Gina shouldn’t have said anything—it wasn’t really her place. Archibald was a lesser bird than herself, but he represented a clan lord. She shouldn’t be arguing with one. But she had done a great deal lately that she shouldn’t. “I wasn’t delirious before Gideon blew up my ship, and the ponies never medicated me. Gideon is a piece of treacherous slime. The ponies might be partially to blame for the confrontation, but they were just doing their jobs. Gideon betrayed Accipio. He murdered my friends, and at least one member of my household. He isn’t fit to be gutted and left out for the crows!”
Gina finally stopped, though she was panting from the exertion by the time she’d finished. She glowered at Archibald, baring her beak in the same way a male would’ve in her place. It meant she would put her life on her word, sprained wing and exhaustion and all.
The emperor smacked one gauntlet onto an armrest. The wood shattered as though it wasn’t even there, showering them with splinters. “That will do, Imperator. Archibald, you have it. The formal accusation of my house. As Gideon is no longer here, we will have to hold you in his place until trial.”
Birds from Vengeance and Victory rose immediately from their seats. The air in the great hall grew thicker. Birds rested claws on weapons, or raised them to fight.
Victory is part of this too? Come to think of it, Giovanni wasn’t here either. All the Voidsteel in this hall belonged to Valor or Virtue. Those nobles, they’re all like Archibald. They’re third and fourth sons. Losers. Like Santiago planned this from the beginning, so didn't leave behind anything he couldn't afford to lose.
She realized what was happening perhaps a second before someone fired the first shot, and the assembly hall descended into chaos.
Velar felt the Stalwart Stratus accelerate beneath his claws, so rapidly that he expected the engine to tear right out of some distant housing. They tilted upward, so steep that he dug his claws into the ground, feeling his beak tighten as he held himself in place by the map. Princess Luna seemed entirely unaffected by the change, and the crew were all in their seats.
Starlight Glimmer squealed and nearly slipped down a sudden slope out the door they’d used to come in, but Velar was too quick. He snatched her out of the air with his claws, settling her down against the map. “Are you alright?”
She barely even got the chance to answer before one of the pony crew shouted from up ahead. “Their cannons should be ready now. Brace for impact!”
Starlight Glimmer wrapped one of her legs around him, shivering and closing her eyes. Velar didn’t move, just held as still as he could. Unity protect them.
The officer’s timing was almost perfect. Several bangs all sounded in series, so loud and close that the shock of impact followed almost instantly. The Stalwart Stratus rocked slightly to port, but less than he might’ve expected.
While the captain called out for a damage report, Princess Luna studied the map. Velar followed her eyes, which watched the pair of larger carriers begin a standard bombing approach. They aren’t going to land an army after all.
“They’re aiming for the palace,” Velar shouted, hoping he would be loud enough for the princess to hear over the chaos in the bridge. “Maybe they have something new they hope can kill an Alicorn.”
The princess nodded, without anger for him despite his words. “They are wasting their time. The palace is the first place we evacuated.”
And they should know that. What are you playing at, Santiago? Velar squinted at the map, but there was no way he was going to be able to see details on the level of individual birds on the deck. There were a few colorful marks moving around through the air that he thought matched pony cutie parks. Luna’s own moon followed the Stalwart Stratus through the air as it kept arching upward.
“Sunbeam is halfway charged!” called another voice, loud enough that Velar could make it out over all the others. “Target is still clear!”
“Count on another volley!” shouted the weapons officer again. “Brace for impact!”
Instead of a few distant thumps, this time Velar heard a terrible explosion, before being almost yanked off his feet. He wrapped his empty foreleg around the map, holding on for dear life. At least one pony wasn’t so lucky, and went flying right out of their restraints.
Alarms blared into the sound of blasting wind, as everything that wasn’t nailed down was buffeted about the room.
Then Princess Luna’s horn began glowing, and the wind abruptly stopped. Velar shuddered, letting go of the map and following her gaze again. Out into the access corridor a gaping hole had cut straight through the ship, and air poured in. Unity what kind of guns are they using?
Captain Blason’s voice cut through the sudden stillness moments later, clawing her way back into her seat. At least one of the ponies that had been wandering the room had fallen to a heap and stopped moving. “Damage… report…”
A pony set down the plastic thing she’d been holding. “Engineering says we’re losing integrity, we have to slow down!”
“Looks like they’re aiming at our guts!” yelled somepony else. “Sunbeam is intact. Almost charged now! Do you still want me to target the bomber, Captain? We can’t let them keep shooting us like this!”
“Yes,” Blason said, voice grave. “Signal the Lavender Spirit that we’re about to fire. If we hit, they can kill the destroyer.”
“Goodbye, Canterlot Castle,” Princess Luna whispered, her voice wistful. “You were my favorite so far.”
The first of the bombers began dropping its load. Velar could see the dark blurs falling from high openings, moments before flashes of light began appearing on the castle. At this distance the bombs seemed like toys—but the image on the table showed the truth. Little bits and pieces of the castle were crumbling. One particularly large explosion struck at the base of a tower, and it went toppling over the edge of the mountain into the abyss.
“Why aren’t you stopping it?” Starlight asked, apparently recovering from the shock of the explosion at last. “Princess, you’re an Alicorn! Couldn’t you bring the shield back yourself? Even if it was only for a second. Or Celestia, she could do it! Why are you letting them do this?”
“Because Prince Velar is correct,” Luna said. She sounded like she was mourning the loss of a friend. “Nothing will rouse the reluctant and fearful of Equestria to action more swiftly than an insult like that. All castles crumble eventually, Starlight. There is nothing carved from stone or wrought from steel that can compare to the lives it would cost if we failed today. This is a price we are willing to pay.”
Another round of cannon fire blasted around them, though this time was far less effective than the second round. Just a little rocking to the port side for a second, with a few minor damage reports. And they’re not firing back with their cannons. I saw the guns… what are they doing? Why wait?
“Sunbeam has reached saturation!” called the weapons pony.
“Hold for ten, then fire!” Blason called. “We don’t want that thing coming down on Canterlot.”
“They have armor too,” Velar shouted, emotion rising in him. “Nothing’s going to bring them down with one shot! Fire as often as you can!”
Blason looked like she was about to do something stupid—but then Luna raised a wing, gesturing away. Then she fixed her eyes on Velar. “Do not do that again. If you have information to share, do it with me. I will decide what orders to give.” She didn’t even shout, despite the din of the ship’s engines, the air whistling through damage in the hull. Even so, Velar found every other sound fell away to nothing as she spoke. She spoke with the absolute certainty of leadership, command with no need to threaten. What would happen if he disobeyed remained unsaid.
“Apologizes,” he said, lowering his head. It was the first time he’d ever done that to a pony—he hadn’t bowed for them during the negotiations. “It won’t happen again.”
“Firing now!”
The front windows became suddenly pitch black. For a second Velar wondered what had happened, what on Equus the ponies were planning blinding themselves this way. Then he saw light.
Like the ancient roar of Unity through the chaos of creation, a single shaft of order cut through the darkness. It was so phenomenally bright it briefly restored color to the window, cutting a straight line over Canterlot to where the bomber was pivoting around for their second pass.
Then came the crack of thunder. It was as though lightning had struck twenty feet from his head. He was momentarily deafened by it. A lesser creature might’ve been overwhelmed by the light and sound, but Velar had spent his life on the battlefield. He kept watching the window, empty except for the shaft of light across the sky and the carrier.
Then the light went out, and the window returned to daylight. His eyes were still fixed on the place the carrier had been, so he saw it clear.
The airship split in half. Molten steel from its armored broadside splashed away from the point of impact, and charred wood left a trail of embers in its wake.
Then one half exploded. Whatever the Equestrians had used, it ignited the powder magazine. Velar barely had time to recover before the sky went black a second time, and another line of light connected with the second carrier. He heard the secondary explosion before color had returned.
Massive chunks of wood and metal began to rain down over the mountain.
Unity grant that Equestria will show mercy, Velar thought, lowering his head in silent prayer. Carriers like that typically had a hundred birds as crew, along with maybe a thousand marines if they were carrying an army. All dead in seconds.
Maybe they really do move the sun.
“The Spirit is firing on the destroyer!” called the same pony from before.
Velar tensed, preparing for the final display of Equestrian air superiority. He would witness the deaths of these oathbreakers and traitors even as his father had witnessed the death of Accipio itself.
Terrible lightning turned the sky to darkness, headed straight for the destroyer. Then it hit, and abruptly went out. Light returned and the airship was still following them, its cannons preparing for another volley.
Another symbol appeared on the map, right above the destroyer. It looked a little like the symbols he thought represented pony cutie marks, except that this one was solid black. Lots of little lines expanding from a central point.
Velar saw it a moment later—a figure hovered above the destroyer, his armor glowing like liquid gold. Even from a distance he thought he could feel the power of it. Voidsteel didn’t just destroy the spells used against it—it incorporated their power unto itself.
I thought my father’s armor was the only one that could do that.
And so it had been. But so far as he knew, none of them had ever been struck with such incredible amounts of magic before.
“Lilac Sky is firing!”
“Don’t!” Velar said, this time to the princess. “You’re just making him stronger!”
“Tell them to hold their fi—” Luna began, but too late.
Lightning crossed the sky again, aimed straight for the destroyer. It was even less effective this time, not even getting near it before curving straight towards the bird in armor. He was glowing so brightly now that Velar could see him clearly even at this enormous distance. Not well enough to identify which set of Voidsteel he was wearing, or who he might be. It wouldn’t be Santiago, right? He’d never come on such a dangerous mission himself.
A sudden, eerie silence descended on the battle. The destroyer didn’t fire its next volley, no ponies called out damage reports. Every eye was fixed on that glowing figure. Then he yelled, his voice magically amplified by the power of the Voidsteel. Thanks to the infusion he’d just received, his voice was loud enough that Velar could hear it clearly even through the Stalwart Stratus.
“EQUESTRIAN COWARDS! COME OUT FROM BEHIND YOUR LITTLE PONIES AND SHOW ME HONOR! FIGHT ME HERE, OR I WILL DESTROY THIS CITY! SEND ME YOUR ALICORNS!”
“He can’t destroy the city with that,” Starlight Glimmer said from beside Velar. She wasn’t like the sailors surrounding them—she’d obviously been seriously shaken by the deaths. Her voice sounded very small, and higher pitched than before. “Two shots from the sunbeam couldn’t destroy a city, even if he could use all their magic perfectly.”
“No,” Princess Luna agreed. “But they could kill thousands. My sister and I have always put the lives of our ponies before our own.” The air beside them began to shimmer, then tore open. Princess Luna nodded to Velar. “You should witness this, heir to Gaius Renault. Join us.”
“Princess, no!” Starlight called. But she wasn’t clinging to the princess—she was holding onto him. “Don’t go! This is obviously what they were planning all along!”
She shrugged. The air opened onto the top of a distant ship, where griffons rushed about the deck, pointing rifles at the spot. They didn’t fire, though. Maybe they knew how useless that would be against a princess.
Not far away on the deck, the air opened again, and Princess Celestia emerged, her mane alight with red like the hottest July afternoon.
Velar pried Starlight’s hoof away from his foreleg, then followed the princess through the opening. He heard the crack of air behind him as his claws settled onto the deck of the griffon destroyer.
Lord Giovanni landed on the deck just ahead of them, his armor no longer black. It lit up so brightly that he could hardly look at it, had to shield his eyes with a wing. At least he didn’t deafen them with his words. “And now the weak have come to die,” he said. “After all these centuries, Accipio will finally have its victory.”
Gina gestured urgently for her guests, backing away from the melee. Far from looking doe-eyed and stupid, the ponies had all raised their weapons in the same moment that the fight began, with the two marines holding their rifles at the ready and aiming out into the crowd.
Now that she looked at them, she was surprised by just how strange they seemed. They didn’t even have a proper magazine, but instead a shard of crystal gripped in something metal, which lit up bright white and began to hum quietly.
The emperor himself lept from the towering throne, landing on the ground ahead of them with his back to the ponies. “It is my responsibility to see you protected in my own house!” he said, and in the same moment swatted away a Vengeance bird with a massive blow from his warhammer. The creature went spinning away through the air and out of sight. “Follow my wife! She will… see you out of here.”
“What kind of negotiation is this, Emperor?” Caliginous asked, sword gripped firmly in her hoof. Like her marines she was only backing away from the battle, not actually engaging. But plenty of birds were, and the room was already thick with the smoke. “Do you think Equestria will give you better terms if—”
“My husband is keeping you alive,” Guinevere said, landing beside Gina with an ivory dagger in one claw. She held it facing backward, like an experienced thrower might. But she wouldn’t know how to fight. Maybe she’s trying to frighten away any bird cowardly enough to attack females and ponies. “Come with me, all of you. This won’t take long.”
A griffon in thick steel armor lunged at them from the side, dodging around where Gaius and Gerrard were holding the throne room. He swung a flail larger than a pony’s head, and seemed to be aiming for Caliginous.
The bat made a slight squeaking sound, high enough that Gina almost couldn’t hear it. The first marine fired. A little line of light briefly connected the end of the rifle, and the crystal shook violently in its metal bracket. The bird in steel armor began to smoke, and bits of his coat actually caught fire. He ran away screaming, trying in vain to extinguish the flames.
Gina wasn’t the only one who’d noticed that. As they kept backing away, Gina could make out the voice of a bird on the other end of the room. “Did you see that? These ponies are here to end the empire! A traitor let them in to kill all of us!”
“We can’t let them escape with what they know!”
Gina tried to follow the brawl, though it was impossible to see for sure. Way more Vengeance birds had rifles, and they seemed to be shooting through the lesser guards to get to them.
Guinevere kicked the high table over, gesturing urgently for them to get behind it.
“I don’t know how any of you are still alive.” Caliginous kept her sword raised at every moment, watching their other side as the marines occasionally fired at birds emerging from the brawl towards them.
One of the crystals cracked suddenly down the middle, and the light went out. The marine smacked the butt of the weapon into the ground, and the whole assembly shot out, opening the way for a second crystal from his belt. He was not carrying a third. “We don’t have the ammo to fight a war in here, Captain!” said the marine, raising his rifle again.
“You won’t need to.” Guinevere kept her own weapon drawn. “The outcome is certain.”
“You’re insane,” Caliginous shouted, as a vase full of spiced wine went smashing into the stone wall just over their head. “There’s a civil war in your throne room!”
“They don’t have Voidsteel here,” Guinevere said. Gina dared a glance around the table, and she saw that the empress was right. She recognized all four sets of the towering armor, and none of them were Vengeance or Victory. It looked like Valor was fighting on their side, or at least Gerrard was. Beyond that, she could hardly tell how the ones fighting could tell each other apart. Bullets zoomed over their heads, a few sparking as they struck stone, or making the table shake when they hit.”
“I might be able to teleport us out,” Isabelle suggested, the first thing she’d said since they entered the throne room. She’d never spoken to birds of such high station, and during Gina’s whole presentation she’d remained humble and silent. But now she was speaking to the captain.
“Teleport? Stars above, no. There are six of us. Unless you’re about to tell me that Twilight Sparkle herself trained you, that’s a terrible idea.”
“I don’t know who that is,” Isabelle said. “But I’ve done two before. Gina and me. I can do shields too.”
Another wave of griffon attackers surged forward, and this time the emperor was elsewhere contending with half a dozen armored knights. Bullets began raining down on the stone behind them, showering them with chips of white hot metal. “Do that!” Gina shouted. “A shield would be great!”
And just like that, they had one. Both marines stopped firing back, eyes widening at the barrier around them. However it worked, it must interfere with the magic of their guns.
Birds were pouring into the room from all sides, and more of them looked like they were wearing friendly uniforms. There were dozens of bodies on the floor, and almost everywhere Gina looked the stone floor had been stained red. The moans of the dying mingled freely with more rifle shots, and the occasional crash as someone wearing Voidsteel swung a terrible weapon.
“Not much longer now,” Guinevere said. “The results of this were already know. They chose to attack in the seat of our power. I suspect that is why any bird of consequence was already gone. Honestly, I feared invasion. Not this.”
“This is not how a nation should be run.” Caliginous settled onto her hind legs, resting the sword over her shoulder as she watched the carnage through the shield. “I don’t know how you birds kept this disaster intact so long. How many civil wars have you had?”
“Sixteen,” Guinevere answered, as another barrage of gunfire descended on the shield. Gina reached to one side, resting a firm claw on Isabelle’s shoulder. The pony visibly strained with every successive blow. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up for very long.
Your magic is even more impressive than I thought. Until this most recent assignment, Isabelle’s shields had never done more than intimidate. But they’d kept her alive through an explosion, and now a gunfight.
“The empire survives, pony,” Guinevere said. “It survives the end of the world—it survives the destruction of all we had conquered, it survives ourselves.” Virtue soldiers swept across the chamber, pouring in from above. They didn’t have rifles, and as a result they were taking terrible casualties. But there were so many of them, and so few of these others.
Moments later, and the battle was over. Emperor Gaius stood tall atop the broken stone table, his black armor stained with red. There were deep cracks along one shoulder, probably where someone had managed to score a few lucky shots with a rifle. Nothing short of a cannon could break Voidsteel in one shot, but enough infantry could bring one down.
They hadn’t today. At a glance, it looked like almost all the Vengeance birds were dead, joined by a large number in Victory blue. Even so, they were outnumbered two-to-one by Vengeance birds. At least a hundred of the house guard were bleeding on the ground, or else sitting up with wounds and desperation.
“I require no further evidence of who has betrayed Accipio,” the emperor announced, his voice booming over the field of battle. “Vengeance and Victory were the ones who found a way to arm themselves without informing us. They were the ones who were eager to retaliate against Equestria. And when their treason was discovered, they were the ones to attack.” Gaius removed his helmet, tossing it to the ground and turning back towards the table.
“That’s enough shield,” Gina whispered, and the bubble around their table vanished. “Great work.”
The pony only made a satisfied sound, collapsing to the stone into near-instant unconsciousness.
“But what do we do about it?” Guinevere asked, rising from behind the table. She brushed a little of the blood off her dress, staring down at the ruin their throne-room had become. “Equestria is already under attack. The strike ships must have reached Canterlot by now.”
“Many enemies,” Gerrard said, lowering the visor on his massive arched helm. Huge plumes of feathers trailed out from behind his head, almost as though he had a mane of his own. “Our enemies have cannons, and we do not. Your fleet was always the largest… but what good is a fleet of unarmed ships?”
“Zoya! I want every doctor in the city here for our wounded. They’re probably already in the palace, preparing for this fool’s invasion. And these dishonorable dead taken to the courtyard to be burned.” Gaius reached towards them, but he only gripped the edge of the table. With one massive stroke, he stood it upright again in front of them. “I have known many ponies who would flee at this moment. Perhaps you wish to do so as well. To leave us to our fate.”
Captain Caliginous stared at him for a long time. She still didn’t bow, but at least she wasn’t raising her sword in his face. “If it were only Accipio in danger, I would,” she said. “You birds are so…” She shook her head, silencing whatever she’d been thinking. “Two of your clans are attacking my home. You were preparing for an invasion. If that happens, ponies will suffer as well. Ponies who aren’t responsible for the disaster you’ve made of your country.”
“This is true.” Gaius was still breathing heavily, though there was no anger on his face. Behind him, surgeons and laborers rushed into the assembly hall. They gathered the injured first, starting with those birds whose wounds were most serious. Slaves dragged out the corpses in Victory blue or Vengeance green, leaving the Valor and Virtue dead respectfully where they had fallen. “But this is nothing new for war. It is the old and powerful who order the young to their deaths.”
Maybe for the ponies it is, Gina thought. You were fighting right along with your men. Your son would’ve been too if he were still alive.
“Celestia wants peace,” Caliginous said. “But given all this… an invasion, cannons on griffon ships, guns in your claws… it’s obvious to us that the treaty will not be enough.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Gerrard said, his voice low and dangerous. He rested one hand on the hilt of the massive Voidsteel sword he had chosen as his weapon, though he didn’t draw it. One of the pony marines made the mistake of pointing their rifle at him as he moved, but Gerrard only laughed. “Make my day, kid.”
“As you were, marine.” Caliginous glared at him, and looked like she might be seconds from snatching the gun away.
Had he done that before the battle, it probably would’ve got him killed. But there was plenty of blood already, and not even Gerrard looked interested in shedding more.
“Aye,” he said, lowering the rifle. His hooves were still twitching.
“You want to make us into Griffonstone?” Gerrard asked, sounding more weary than angry. “I like our odds against the traitors better than that, Gaius.”
“I don’t want to make you into anything,” Caliginous said. “But Accipio staying independent was supposed to mean we could all keep living our own way. The culture you wanted to remain distinct wouldn’t get dissolved in Equestria. But what happened was Equestria was threatened. There’s an invasion fleet over Canterlot. I don’t know how that battle went… but even if we won without a single pony death, that’s too far. You made weapons, you kept slaves… no more. If you want peace now, it will be on our terms. Equestria will not spend the next thousand years at constant war with itself, as Accipio has.”
The eyes of Virtue’s surviving lords were on him. Gaius remained silent for a long time. He stared out at the assembly hall, filled as it was with their dead. A pair of white-robed slaves dragged away Archibald’s bloody corpse, trailing red on the tiled floor. “I wish to speak with Celestia. We will not become slaves. But there is much I would sacrifice to protect what few of us remain.”
Velar should’ve listened to Starlight Glimmer. He could still hear her desperate plea that he stay behind, echoing through the void through a portal that wasn’t there anymore. Beside him was one of the Alicorns of Equestria. A being so powerful his ancestors had great stories about heroes who had journeyed to the end of the world in order to obtain sacred artifacts blessed by Unity itself. Such a trip was what it took to have any hope of killing even one of them. And yet, through all those years, at least two of them were still alive. And Equestria can make more.
Princess Celestia strode over to her sister, even more terrible in her appearance than Luna. Princess Luna’s eyes had some of the softness of the night, and her mane was at least a window into something familiar. Princess Celestia burned so bright he couldn’t look at her, and so much magic rippled from her head that he could feel something stirring in his own chest. Like an ancient organ, twitching to life after eons of sleep.
Compared to them, Velar felt like a drifting mote of dust on the wind, a transient shimmer that would burn away in the haze. But he didn’t burn, however much their magic made him afraid he would. Celestia did not even speak to him.
Now that he was here, Velar recognized this ship. It was the Aakash, one of the older destroyers in Vengeance’s fleet. He didn’t have the guns of every ship in Accipio memorized, but he was fairly certain the cannons that had punched at least one gaping hole in the Stalwart Stratus hadn’t been on her the last time he’d seen her.
There were at least two dozen armed marines on the deck with them now, wearing modern cloth uniforms and carrying rifles. There were other crew—engineers and technicians trailing bits of scrap iron or toolboxes. But they kept their distance, and never remained in sight for long.
A massive armored figure landed on the deck with such force that the wood actually splintered. Velar could see it singeing around his hooves, charred black by the magic the Voidsteel had captured.
“Princesses of Equestria,” said Giovanni. “I did not think you had the will to fight me honorably. I assumed I would have to bleed your city first. Pity.”
“Laugh if you want, bird,” Luna snapped back. “I notice all four of our ships are still in the air, and you only have the one. One ill-suited for besieging a city. You waste our time with idle threats.”
Giovanni stopped laughing, glowering at them. “There’s nothing idle in my words, Equestrians. You have ruled all this time only because your powers were strange. But I wield a weapon forged by our greatest smiths. They knew this day would come, and they gave us exactly the weapon we would need against you. Your glamour and starstuff will crumble to dust. And when you’re dead, this land will have only the strongest rulers.”
This time it was the Alicorns who laughed. The sound was so bitter that Velar turned to stare. He’d never heard a sound like that from a pony’s mouth before. “You have no idea what you’re wearing,” Princess Celestia eventually said. “You think it was made for fighting ponies? Is that the myth they teach in your monasteries?”
“Irrelevant.” Giovanni stepped forward towards them, lifting a long sword in one claw. It burned like his armor, and marines on all sides scattered out of his way. “Whatever lies you’ve spun about the past don’t matter today. The two of you will soon be dead.”
Velar almost thought he hadn’t been noticed there—but then Giovanni’s eyes fixed on him. He stopped, momentarily taken-aback. “You’re alive?”
He nodded. “What are you doing here alone, Giovanni? I know your family only has the one set of armor, but… shouldn’t Santiago be here with Vengeance’s three sets? The odds would be better that way.”
“Victory will come to the strong,” Giovanni recited. “Because it is deserved. The company you keep is not as mighty as it appears, Velar. You will see. Their powers will not work on me. The metal of this armor will unravel their spells, and each new attack will make me more powerful. I can already feel it now. I could tear this city apart with my claws if I wished! Perhaps I will, when I am finished here. I will let you watch.”
“Your ancestors would be ashamed to see you wearing that,” Princess Luna said. “Those were birds of honor. Birds we were privileged to fight beside. Your ancient forefathers gave their blood to keep the chaos at bay. So many died for the armor you’re wearing—countless lives. Whole wars fought for acres of land. Numberless other creatures swept from Equus, all for us. Is this how you repay their gift? Do you think they’ll be pleased with you when this war is over? If you triumph here today—do you think they would be pleased to see you murdering the children of their friends, and starving in their houses?”
“Be silent!” Giovanni roared, his voice so loud that it shook the ship under his claws. Velar retreated a few steps, behind the alicorns. The ponies were unmoved. “You will lie no more about events you do not understand! I will be certain that neither of you tell another lie again!”
“Our parents were there,” Celestia said, meeting Victory’s eyes. Despite having no armor of her own, she looked unafraid as he closed the distance. “The end of chaos was new when we were fillies, Giovanni. And it was not complete. We saw it return. Our civilization was undone. Carcosa and her gods are all ashes. We will not allow you to do the same to the survivors. Not now that we’re so close. Put down your sword and surrender, Giovanni. You will be treated fairly.”
Velar didn’t have to listen to know how well that demand would go.
“Today the old world crumbles, Equestrians. When the ash of Mons Ignis cools and the fields are green again, we will be ruling them, as we always should have.”
They met in the air, and the terrible impact shook Velar through to his bones. He could make out no details, only blinding light and the glow of magic rising higher and higher from the point where they had met.
Yet one reality rose to the surface in his mind. If that armor really makes him immune to all pony magic, then this fight should be over almost instantly. It’s not ending. Then again, the Alicorns were ancient creatures, who had ruled in person longer than Accipio had existed. Maybe they had other ways of fighting back.
But he wouldn’t have to worry about any of that, because the soldiers were closing in on him. They’d kept their distance before, when he stood beside the powerful Alicorns. A tall bird with lieutenant’s knots gestured meaningfully at Velar with a rifle. He recognized him as a bird named Gibson. “Claws up, Velar. You’re in our custody now.”
“So I am,” he said, raising his claws as he’d been ordered and holding still.
The birds closed in around him, maybe a dozen marines in full uniforms and equipment. Like they were expecting a landing. How defenseless did they think Equestria would be?
Over their heads Velar heard an explosion so loud that snow began tumbling off the side of Canterlot’s mountain, vanishing from sight.
“But I wonder what you’ll do if Giovanni isn’t the one to land?” he asked, as the marines closed the distance around him. “You know that could happen, right? You’ve got four equestrian ships surrounding you as we speak, probably more on the way. Did you see any birds flying away from your bombers?” He hadn’t, which was the point. Those four ships would all have them in their sights. Assuming they could fire their incredible weapons again so soon, they could turn this little ship to ash.
“Good point,” said the lieutenant, though he didn’t sound like he believed it. “You know what, I think that counts as resisting arrest. It’s a shame we had to kill you, Velar. The slaves are still telling stories about you. Maybe they can pray to Unity next, instead of a pretend god.”
Dammit. A dense crowd of birds surrounded him, who had been about to bind his wings and arrest him. But now they stopped, a few raising handguns instead. Further away birds seemed to be gripping their rifles, though they didn’t aim them into a crowd of their friends.
Velar didn’t think anymore—he just acted. His raised claw went to the face of the nearest marine, who dropped his handgun into Velar’s other waiting claw. He dove to the deck as several pistol shots went wild. He felt a brief spike of pain in his wings, but he couldn’t let that slow him down now. Couldn’t even think about it.
There is Unity in all things, Velar thought, dodging behind one of the nearby marines even as he shot straight into the head of another, then took a third down to the ground with him again. Blood and bullets sprayed all around him, and screams for help from more of the soldiers.
It guides the claw of the just. A bird pounced on him, abandoning the pretense of gunfire completely. There were so many enemy soldiers that practically every shot would kill another ally for them. Velar had no such compunctions. He fired the revolver straight up into the bird’s head, then rose at a crouch.
And opens the ears of the brave. Movement behind him, claws digging into wood. Velar dropped into a crouch, letting the figure fling itself over him. He barely even watched, bringing his claw down in a slash at the bird’s throat. Blood sprayed, and he went for the rifle.
There were so many. Further away, birds were aiming their rifles straight into the melee. If they get a clear shot, I’m dead. Velar leapt into the center of the crowd, abandoning the rifle. Someone sunk a claw into his shoulder before he smashed their head into the railing, then rolled off and fired other four shots in the revolver. There were still so many. He could keep fighting for an hour and not kill them all.
Above the Aakash, the sky itself seemed to be shaking apart. He couldn’t try to watch the glowing figures anymore—the battle of the gods would not include him.
Until the instant of union ends, and I return to dust.
“Don’t move,” he felt something press to the back of his head, and his whole body went rigid. The barrel of a gun. “That’s right, Velar. I have you.” It was Gibson, his voice overflowing with pride. “The stories say you’re the best warrior in Virtue. That you once killed a manticore with your claws and a rock. Yet here we are… two dead, maybe? Assuming the medics can’t save them. Pathetic.”
Velar didn’t turn around. His mind raced, searching desperately for a solution. What could he do faster than Gibson could pull the trigger?
“If you want to brag about killing me, you should do it honorably,” he found himself saying. “Twenty of you, one of me. That won’t make for much of a story. Why can’t we have a duel while the gods have theirs?”
“Because you’re an idiot,” Gibson said. “It will only be a story anyway. That’s all honor really is, Velar. It’s a great story. It’s only when birds like you and your father try to take it out into the real world that you get into trouble. But thanks for the advice. I think I’ll tell it that way.”
I’m sorry, father. He’d been an idiot to come here—what help had he thought he could provide to an Alicorn, anyway? Let alone two of them. The battlefield was an unkind teacher. Velar tried to relax, knowing he wouldn’t even hear the sound of the gunshot. At least this would be a quick death.
Then he heard a scream. Something went flying over his head, something that moved so fast it knocked over every soldier in the way and then smashed through the metal railing. “Too bad I’m not honorable either,” Starlight Glimmer said.
There was nothing against the back of Velar’s head anymore. He spun around to see Starlight Glimmer behind him, standing beside a glowing tear in the sky. Her horn flashed, and she was beside him, just in time for the marines from all over the deck to start shooting.
A barrier appeared around them, glowing the same purple as her horn. She smiled sidelong at him, less afraid of the blood than he might’ve expected. “Why are you so determined to get yourself killed?” she asked, wincing as bullets pounded into the glowing barrier.
“I, uh… thought they might need my help.” It sounded even stupider now that he said it, and Starlight seemed to think so too.
“There are lots of ways to help Alicorns, but epic battles in the sky are not one of them.” She gestured behind them. “How about we… back it up, and we let the Stalwart Stratus take care of this place?”
For the second time, Velar found himself under the ministrations of a pony doctor. He hadn’t even noticed at the time just how badly wounded he had been. The battle-trance had blocked all pain from his mind, but now that it was over he felt it in earnest.
As it turned out, Velar had been shot three separate times, though two had passed through his wings between the bones and only one bullet had to be removed from a leg. The enemy’s desire to preserve their own birds from friendly fire had probably saved his life.
By the time his wounds had been cleaned and stitched and wrapped in pony bandages, the sound of violence from outside had settled down. Aboard the Stalwart Stratus ponies still raced, making repairs to as much of the vessel as they could following the several bombardments they took.
Out a high window, Velar could see that Canterlot had escaped unscathed after all. Celestia and Luna had put their own lives on the line, but in doing so their capital was safe.
Starlight Glimmer paced back and forth beside his bed, constantly scurrying over to one of those strange talking machines to hear from ponies elsewhere on the ship.
Eventually one of those trips brought her back with a solemn expression instead of mere annoyance, and Velar realized that she had finally learned something.
“He’s dead,” she said, pulling over one of the waiting room chairs. Velar was conscious of several of the hospital staff moving over to listen as well. He hardly minded. “I don’t know the specifics, but… it must’ve been hard. Princess Celestia was injured in the battle and has returned to Canterlot for treatment.”
The bastard managed to hurt one of them. He could almost feel admiration there. Even if the rest of the plan seemed insane. After the way that Victory had treated him—what they’d said about honor, he didn’t think he would mourn much over Giovanni’s passing.
“What does that mean for us?” Velar asked. He shifted in his bed, made to rise, and found that there was a transparent tube running directly into one of his forelegs. He couldn’t escape without yanking the near-magic of their medicine from his leg, and there was no saying what that might do.
Starlight pushed down on him with a gentle flash of magic, preventing him from escaping. “It means we’ll wait for Luna’s instructions, whatever they are. I don’t know if she will want our involvement or not.”
“Do you think she understand what just happened?” He flicked one wing towards a window. “There’s something obviously wrong here. Great generals sacrifice ships and soldiers all the time. To draw your forces north, to distract, to influence your electorate… whatever the reason. But there’s less than a dozen suits of Voidsteel left. Putting one of those at risk like this… I don’t understand it. If I was trying to assassinate your queens, I wouldn’t try to do it myself. I’d bring every suit, every weapon, everything at the same time. Now you know what they want, and they don’t have anything to show for it.”
An earlier Starlight Glimmer might’ve reacted negatively to the casual mention of killing Equestria’s rulers. But this one only twitched once. “Not… queens…” she muttered, before rising from her chair and beginning to pace again. “So, what do you think they were trying to do?”
“I…” Velar hesitated. In the old days, revealing the weakness of his own kind to the enemy like this would’ve been unthinkable. But now he was on a pony ship, surrounded by pony doctors who had already saved his life once. The ones doing the conquering weren’t ponies.
“I think it was Santiago consolidating power, it’s the only explanation. Either there’s a wave of bombers behind those mountains waiting to turn your city to rubble… or this is consolidation.”
“I… what?” Starlight stomped one hoof against the deck, horn briefly flickering with her agitation. “I’m sorry, what? What kind of insanity are you thinking of? How did you even figure it out?”
“I know Santiago,” he answered, avoiding her eyes. “And there’s only two reasons for an attack like this. First—maybe he’s softening you up, but he would need to follow up fast. Your shield will be back if he waits, so if there’s no second fleet…”
“There isn’t,” Starlight cut him off. “Or if there is, it’s so fast that we can’t even see it. There’s no way you can build ships like that.”
“Right.” Velar nodded again. “Then he was consolidating. Victory’s heir is a hatchling, and an unmarried female at that. At a time of war, the clan lord of the closest ally would take things over.”
“And she never gets to take the house back,” Starlight supplied. “Something will happen to her, and she’ll disappear. Just like that, he’s ruling half of Accipio.”
“It’s… hard to believe that Giovanni would’ve fallen for it. But he was never much of a student of history. The Trueists… they always saw those stories as stories. Said that the only reason Equestria survived was that it had expert spies. You hadn’t ever won a war with us, you just managed to subtly change the past until it looked like you never lost. Your alicorns were supposed to be… freaks. Like a bird born with too many claws. That kind of thing.”
“But you weren’t one of them,” Starlight declared, eyeing him with an expression that made it quite clear how dark her view of him would be if he said yes.
But he didn’t lie, and he didn’t have to start now. “No, never. But you probably won’t like the reason why. It’s not one a pony could understand. Anyway, if Giovanni thought—”
“Stop,” Starlight cut him off. “You can’t just say that! Why did you believe? Why didn’t you want to ignore history like the others?”
“Because if they were right, it would’ve meant that we’d already won. Accipio started as one little clan up in the mountains, surrounded by enemies. The zebras were so much older, they had writing, they had the old magic. Then we beat them, turned them to our side, and there were the minotaurs further out. Stronger, creatures that would fight until every drop of blood was drained from them… and we beat them. It went on and on. Since we began, we’ve been finding new challenges to overcome.
“The idea that there might be something out there that was greater than we are—it’s like believing in Unity, in a way. It helps to think there’s something out there bigger than you. When you lose a comrade after a battle, or maybe life doesn’t go your way… that’s why we tell so many stories that end with griffons losing. So that we could aspire to be better. So that, one day, we could overcome. I think if we ever did, it might be… a dark day for Accipio.”
“There’s been a lot of those lately,” Starlight said flatly. Velar tried to read her expression—was she angry with him again? But he couldn’t tell.
Hooves pounded down the hallway, and a second later a pair of uniformed ponies rushed in. They stopped in front of Starlight, saluting. “Starlight Glimmer?”
She nodded, not returning the gesture. She wasn’t military, after all. “We have orders from Luna. For you and the medical staff here. You’re to report to the bridge as soon as possible. Assuming it is possible to move him.”
A medical orderly emerged from the other end of the room. “He wasn’t seriously hurt,” the pony said, obviously not happy about what was being asked of him. “But the patient’s chances are better if he remains in our care. There’s always a chance with bullet wounds that some bit of shrapnel might find its way into the—”
“Our orders were explicit,” the officer said again. “Apologies. But we were told it was a matter of national survival.”
Velar didn’t need an apology, though. He would’ve cheered for the princess’s excuse to get him out of the medical bay, regardless of the risks.
A few minutes later, and they were back on the bridge. There was a repair crew gathered around one of the control consoles, and they’d removed it to expose what was underneath. Strange glass tubes that glowed, and lengths of string covered in plastic. Wire? How does any of this work?
Princess Luna sat near the magical map. Her armor had been dented and banged up, and a few sections looked like they were melted. That wasn’t the most frightening thing about it, though—there was something in the air next to her.
The ponies all around kept well back from it, as though the princess had trapped a hungry beast. Voidsteel armor with no one to wear it looked a little like a primordial animal, a mass of black energy that occasionally formed into metal spikes, or bits of glittering crystal. Every second it changed, with bits of armor and weapons momentarily appearing and disappearing in it as the seconds passed.
“It remembers every bird who ever wore it,” his father had explained, long ago. “If you listen, it will share its wisdom with you.”
Princess Luna waved them over with a wing, ignoring captain Blason’s protests. Starlight looked at the dark metal beside the princess with the same skepticism as the other ponies, though she was braver than they were.
“Princess, should you be on your hooves so soon?” she asked. “You look… unwell.”
Velar couldn’t really tell the difference between an Alicorn that could destroy ships and one that had been beaten near to death, but there did seem to be something missing. It took his mind a second to realize what it was—her mane wasn’t glowing anymore. It just looked like hair, like the time he’d seen her at the first treaty negotiation. “I should not,” Princess Luna agreed. “But there is no time for rest. My sister will not be continuing on with us.”
“Giovanni’s armor,” Velar muttered, nodding towards the mass of metal. “You won it from him.”
Luna nodded. “My sister and I both. She’s trusted it to me.” It moved through the air, trapped still in her magic. Towards Velar. “The Dark Refraction is keyed to your species. It cannot be given to a pony without many days of careful manipulation. In the interests of our success, consider it bequeathed to you.”
Velar stiffened at once, staring up at the armor. His voice shook, though he forced the words out somehow. “P-Princess Luna. You realize how… how much is involved with…”
Her eyebrows went up. Then she stood straighter, and met his eyes, and switched to Grypos. “Unity’s judgement has passed its most potent defenses to a worthier bearer. I would happily lay down my life in its protection, but I cannot. My child will wield this weapon in my name, until the last embers of life go out and chaos takes back what we have stolen.”
She hadn’t missed a single word. Velar still had a choice—Voidsteel could not be forced on a bird. Owning it would change the life of any who wielded it, except that Velar already had. His own father’s armor would be his one day, and he’d trained with it extensively.
But how could he refuse? “Unity accepts the sacrifice of even the unwilling. Our blood and the steel stolen from midnight will protect those who cannot protect themselves.” He extended a claw, taking Luna’s offered hoof.
The armor flashed, with faint sparkles of color appearing around the edges. A pony had won it, but it had accepted the ritual she performed. Somehow.
“Now, put it on. The battle has already begun.”
“What battle, Princess?” Starlight probably didn’t speak Grypos well enough to understand the gravity of an ancient religious ritual. “Are there more ships coming?”
Luna shook her head. “It isn’t here. The griffons are attacking New Scythia, and the battle has already begun. We have already set a course, along with as much of the western fleet as can be quickly mustered. I suggest you familiarize yourself with that armor before we arrive.”
Starlight Glimmer could feel the gradual press of acceleration, sliding her backwards along the deck plating. She didn’t have the natural instincts of other lifetime crew, who could walk about even on the top deck without being blown off. But the princess didn’t seem to mind that she looked a little silly. “I think you must have more information than we do,” she said, keeping her tone flat only through lots of practice with Twilight. “What’s going on in Accipio? Why are the griffons attacking… each other? They basically just declared war on us…”
“You would think so,” Luna said. “But you’re not thinking like one of them. Perhaps Velar would be able to see…” But Velar had gone into another room to struggle into the armor. He had insisted that no one be there to watch. It was a religious ritual, and only birds could see. Starlight no longer had the energy to protest. “I’ll tell you what we know.”
And she did. Explained how the ship meant to evacuate the rebellious priests had turned on the inspection crew, massacred a few, captured the rest, and stolen their ships. But a few survivors had been discovered by the Heart’s Shadow, where they had gotten in touch with her through radio. At her order, the Heart’s Shadow had continued into Accipio to let the emperor know what his subjects had done and demand capitulation. She was a little surprised to learn that Gaius had given it. He had consented to altering the treaty when it was done and sworn his help at quashing the rebellious birds of house Vengeance and Victory.
“But they must have discovered the change, or maybe they discovered they’d been defeated in Equestria. It appears Vengeance is attempting to consolidate power. First by deceiving the leader of house Victory, now this.”
“And when he is complete control of Accipio, he will march across Equestria,” said a voice from an open doorway. Velar strode in, armor clanking with each step. His voice sounded stronger somehow, more mature. His stature too was more powerful, if that were even possible. He looks more like a king wearing that. It was strange to see just how the spell had adapted to him, taking on some of his feather-colors, and changing shape to fit his frame. He wasn’t an elderly bird, but a youth, and there was now obvious power in everything he did. “Santiago probably expects his illegal guns will give him a decisive advantage over Virtue and Valor. He is probably right.”
I guess this is how they think they’re the equals of Alicorns. Wear that armor for long enough, and they feel like they can do anything.
“Yes,” Luna said, stepping slightly to one side so Velar could take up his place beside the map. The other crewmen of the Stalwart Stratus kept well back from his armor, more afraid than angry with his presence now. “The Heart’s Shadow is assisting the defense, but it is not going well for your clan. The enemy has two dozen ships in their fleet with working guns, and you have only the Shadow.” She raised a wing, interrupting Velar. “No, it does not have a Sunbeam. The Lunar Fleet is equipped with a different innovation than those my sister commissioned. Sadly it will not turn the tide of the conflict by itself.”
“Let me guess,” Velar supplied, his voice grave. “Rather than preserve the fleet at the cost of the city, my father is fighting anyway. Suffering terrible losses and placing his birds with Voidsteel in great risk.”
Luna nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly what he’s doing.”
“That’s Gaius,” Velar said, voice quiet and solemn. “We used to… wonder to each other which of us would get ourselves killed the soonest. But he was always the better warrior. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”
Luna nodded. “I always knew we were wise to trust him. Unfortunately, the same has not been true for many of your brothers and sisters. If we do not reach New Scythia within the next hour or so, the battle will be lost.”
“Can we arrive that quickly?” Velar asked, glancing briefly over his shoulder towards the rest of the bridge. The ponies there were rushing about their stations, calling out commands and instructions and doing everything they could to accelerate.
“The Stratus cannot,” Princess Luna said. “I might have been able to open a gateway wide enough for all three of these destroyers, but unfortunately the conflict with Giovanni has taken much of my strength.”
Starlight Glimmer made the connection before Velar did. “Princess, you can’t. You already fought them, you don’t have the energy for another battle. There are other Alicorns! Twilight, and Cadance, and… okay, Flurry Heart isn’t old enough. But they should go! You need time to rest.”
“Cadance is no warrior,” Luna answered, “and Twilight has not yet returned from her…” She glanced briefly at Velar. “Her expedition. I could search for her, but that would be time and magic not spent resisting the enemy. I have left instructions to send her onward to New Scythia if she is discovered. That leaves me… and the heir. Are you ready to fight birds again, Velar?”
“I’ve spent my life fighting the enemies of Accipio,” Velar answered, without hesitation. Starlight tensed—this bird was probably the one she should really be worried about. Luna had escaped from the conflict with Giovanni unscathed, even when Celestia had been too hurt to fight on. Velar, on the other hoof, had been shot multiple times and stitched up less than an hour ago. “Explain the nature of this relationship to me. Are we on the same side, or are you expecting me to fight against my father?”
“Captain Caliginous has struck a temporary accord of peace with Gaius, and through him clans Virtue and Valor. You are those who remain true to the treaty—as true as any bird has ever been. Defeating Lord Santiago has become an essential task—he has stated in no uncertain terms what he plans for the relationship between our two nations. He has demonstrated the contempt to which he holds the treaties we signed together. How little respect he will give even to his own kind. We fight together against Vengeance and Victory. As we have already done today.”
“Then I’m ready,” Velar said, though there was still a little skepticism to his tone. “Do you really have a spell that can take us hundreds of miles faster than the engines of this great machine? I know ponies can perform simple teleports, but that… won’t my armor destroy the magic before we can use it?”
“Not if you don’t want it to,” Princess Luna said matter-of-factly. “I suppose you aren’t trained to do that anymore. We haven’t fought on the same side in a long time, so any magic was unfriendly. Have you ever used that aspect of the armor before?” When Velar shook his head, she went on. “Well, practice on simple levitation with Starlight. It will take five minutes for me to prepare a long-range teleport for the two of us. If she can lift you by then, we will go together. Otherwise… alone.”
Starlight didn’t want to help him learn. The thought of Velar in so much danger so soon after nearly getting himself killed the first time—she almost flubbed the casting intentionally. But Princess Luna was important to all Equestria, and she was putting her own life at risk to protect a nation that wasn’t even theirs. Velar had been a powerful warrior—he would be much more now that he was armored. She couldn’t watch an already-exhausted Luna flight herself into battle without the single advantage they still had.
Velar took all the time they had to practice before he managed to let her pick him up. The effort obviously cost him greatly in terms of concentration, and his expression was still worn out when he settled back on the ground. Like he’d just taken one of Twilight’s tests. “That was it!” he said, striding over to where the princess stood outside a circle of runes she had traced on the ground. He knew enough about magic not to go near them while she worked, particularly while wearing the armor. “I can do it, Princess. I’ll be joining you. I’ll fight beside you to protect New Scythia.”
“That is good.” Luna settled the bit of borrowed charcoal back onto the map table. “I have just finished.” She raised her voice, looking around the room at them all. “To everypony who has fought today, continue fighting a little longer. We have before us a chance to end this war while it is in its early stages. Our enemy has committed most of his irreplaceable resources all in one place. Ships from all over Equestria are racing across hostile terrain to be there in time. You must join them. I am counting on Captain Blason and every pony of the Stalwart Stratus to arrive among the first.”
She saluted, and the whole room shook around them as the ponies returned her salute. “Fly swift and well,” Blason said. “We’ll be there.”
“And you.” Princess Luna glanced over her shoulder at him. “Velar, I hope you’ll forgive me if I use this spell first. If your skills fail you, the worst that will happen is I will fight alone. You, on the other hand…” She shook her head. “I’ve heard the death is gruesome. Do not let your mind falter.” Her horn flashed bright blue, and the space in front of her opened with a terrible thunderclap that rattled all the windows in their mounts. It was a single line, like the one they’d used to cross onto the bird ship last time. Only through it, Starlight Glimmer could see war. The air was thick with smoke, and dozens of ships hovered in the sky like islands in a sea. Many of those islands were burning, and birds zoomed around them on angry wings. It looked like parts of the city were burning too.
Princess Luna didn’t even look back, just passed through the portal ahead of them. It flickered briefly at her passing, then Starlight Glimmer saw the princess appear on the other side.
Velar strode forward to join her, and probably wouldn’t have looked back either if Starlight hadn’t clutched briefly onto his foreleg. “Wait, Velar!”
He did, though he kept glancing back at the portal. Looking for any sign that it might be about to collapse, maybe. “What is it, Starlight?”
What could she say? “What if you need me again?” she found herself asking, though the words sounded incredibly cheesy as she said them. But she didn’t care, clinging a little tighter to the strange black metal.
“Then I’ll have to rely on someone else. My father is there, as well as several others with armor. Birds who have been fighting all this time and waiting for me. We’ll speak again soon.” He pulled away, crossing the short distance to the portal.
“Wait!” she shouted again. She didn’t hold onto him this time—just timed her approach so she would pass through the opening at the exact second that Velar did. Her voice had been enough to make him hesitate—she felt the terrible pressure against her chest, and the crushing weight of the void. Long-range transport like this could kill the elderly or the weak, but for a prepared unicorn like her it only made her sick.
Then she emerged on the other side, onto the deck of a ship beside so many others like it.
The portal lasted for one more second before collapsing with another harsh crack, leaving the two of them stranded on the deck surrounded by birds. Wearing Virtue purple and gold, they didn’t attack, just pointed up at the sky to where Luna had apparently gone.
“No!” Velar turned, and the helmet pulled back from around his face. He looked more afraid than angry. “You shouldn’t have come, Starlight! You’re not a warrior! This is…” He pointed up with a hoof, and Starlight saw what he meant.
Ships met in the air, cannons firing into masses of birds as they struggled desperately to board the decks of their enemy. It was clear in seconds that their side was losing badly—the fleet had been separated into several enclaves, with only the Heart’s Shadow and the Impervious Triumph and a few others still moving under their own power. From the wreckage on the ground below it looked like Vengeance had been outnumbered before—that was over. If things kept going this way for much longer, they would soon mop up the last few pockets of resistance.
“This is war,” Velar finished. “And a losing war at that. You were safe on the Stalwart Stratus! I don’t want…” He stiffened, and the helmet secured itself over his face again. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“Too bad.” Starlight’s horn lit up. “I don’t think you have any conception of just how dangerous I am. Let’s find Santiago. We need to stop this before anypony else dies.”
Velar’s mind flitted constantly between fear, relief, and maybe a little of something else. Starlight Glimmer had come with him, despite everything she had seen. No pony had seen more of Accipio than she had or had come to know him as well. Now she stood beside him on the ship at the end of his world. First Mount Ignis had done its best to erase Accipio and everything they had ever accomplished. Now their own kind had come to finish the job.
“The fleet has mostly surrendered, V-Velar,” the captain was telling him. “Only little pockets of resistance left, and they don’t m-matter anymore.” He pointed down over the edge of the ship with one claw, where carriers flying flags of Vengeance and Victory had landed. The massive landing doors were open, which meant troops were on the ground.
The battle in the sky was just the dance, then. As in all invasions, it was the opening moves for control of land. Airships could bombard a city from above, they could reduce it to rubble, they could blockade it. But they could not take a city. That took soldiers, and those soldiers were working the slaughter in earnest.
That explained why the last pockets of resistance had chosen the location of the final stand. Below them was the imperial district, the monasteries, and the palace grounds itself. Velar tuned out the words of the captain as he recounted the battle and the many who had died. All that mattered now was discerning enemy troop movements, positions, intentions. From up here, he could see enough.
The enemy were armed with rifles, while the soldiers of his family were using crossbows and what they could take from their slain foes. It wasn’t just that Vengeance had a tactical advantage—Virtue was demoralized. That had been the ultimate end of house Purity, during those first years of transition. Those families that had not kept up with innovation had been left behind in its wake, and subsequently consumed.
“We need to get to the palace,” Velar declared, turning to face Starlight Glimmer. “That’s the target that matters. If Santiago wants to take the empire for himself, he must kill my father, his heirs, and take the throne.”
“The whole city is in flames…” Starlight Glimmer muttered, horrified. “Most of those birds aren’t soldiers. Why are they doing that?”
“Sacking the city of your enemies is a common enough tactic,” Velar answered. “Or it was, in more barbaric times. My family never did it. But having a ruthless reputation is good for crushing future opposition. The next city you come to knows if they raise their claws against you that they’ll get treatment like the last place you visited. It seems that Vengeance is making an example of the innocent creatures of New Scythia.
“No,” Starlight Glimmer muttered. Her expression went dark, her horn glinting faintly green. “Somepony has to stop them.”
“We need to get to the palace,” Velar said, though he wasn’t sure she was listening. Starlight seemed distant now, the way she’d sometimes looked long ago, when she discovered something new about Accipio that she didn’t like. Only there was something darker underneath, something grim and resolved. Velar tried to push it from his mind. “Can you teleport us down there? If we take a longboat, we will take some of Captain Dieter’s resources, and he can spare little with the battle still raging.”
“Teleport, yes.” She glanced briefly down at the ground. “I can. Prepare your mind… what Luna taught you.”
Velar nodded without hesitation. “I’m ready. I’ve done it twice so far, it’s not hard.” It was. But Velar focused his mind into the armor he was wearing, on an imaginary point in front of his helmet like the pony princess had taught. Images appeared there, writing in a long-dead language that Luna had not explained how to translate. There were many little lights around the edges, and the enemy ships in the sky seemed to glow red. And up there was Princess Luna, her horn blazing as she cut enemy ships clean through with little blasts of light. She was trying to take off the pressure on their fleet, and it seemed to be working. A whole squadron of Vengeance destroyers was breaking off from the central formation, turning towards her.
There was the option he needed. Velar focused again, and his vision went white. It was a little like moving a limb, except he couldn’t see the limb, only feel its presence in his mind.
There was a brief flash, and suddenly they were standing on the palace steps.
The guard of house Valor was putting up a valiant defense just down the street, with carts and other debris forming a defensive wall. The ground up the steps was littered with the dead and dying, receiving what little care they could from overworked medics. They were suddenly staring at him.
“I have an idea,” Starlight Glimmer said from beside him. “Can you give commands your troops will obey?”
“It’s him!” birds were suddenly shouting. Voices that had been borne down with inevitability now lifted. “That’s Voidsteel!” “He’s alive!” “Unity brought him back to us.”
“I… think so,” Velar said, his eyes skimming the several streets that led to the palace. “I don’t know that there is any tactical decision that will make the difference here, Starlight. It looks like most of our birds have already surrendered. This is mostly the Valor royal guard, they’re—”
She cut him off, her eyes practically glowing green now. “You will take me to the front,” she said. “And you will tell your birds to prepare to lower their weapons. They must drop their weapons when you command, or they will be destroyed.” She was no longer asking.
Birds scattered from around her, soldiers who had been rushing from behind them now hesitated. Velar nodded to her. “Some pony magic you have thought of? You can—”
“Yes.” She started walking towards the nearest barricade, muttering quietly to herself as she went. Tendrils of green flame burned the ground at her hooves, seeming to gather behind her as she went. Velar followed close behind, repeating what she had said to several of the soldiers and ordering them to fly off to the other checkpoints to wait for his signal.
“Put our weapons down?” one ragged Valor bird croaked. “Are you insane? You’re asking us to surrender?”
“No.” Velar wasn’t sure if Starlight could hear, and he had begun to fear what she might do if she did. But if he didn’t say something convincing… “Just to put them down for a moment. Prepare to retreat and watch for the pony spell. Tell I have returned from Equestria for this defense, and they’ll hear my voice when the time comes.”
What could the messengers argue? At least one of them was not a Valor bird, though. Anthony followed despite the unearthly magic coming from Starlight and fell into step beside him. “It’s true what the slaves are saying about you,” he said. “Unity really did hear their prayers.”
“Someone did,” Velar said. He didn’t look to the side, following behind Starlight. They were almost to the barricade. “Where is my father?”
“Gaius fought three birds against one with Lucius, Santiago, and Gideon. He killed Lucius, injured Gideon, but was gravely wounded himself. Zoya is treating him now.”
“What about Gradon and Leopold?” Velar asked, though his tone was grave. “Have they…”
Anthony shook his head, all the signal Velar needed. “They held back the Vengeance fleet as long as they could. But now that you’ve returned, perhaps things will go differently. Santiago may emerge from behind their line at any moment, but he seems content to let his troops grind us down while he pillages.”
“Not for much longer.” Starlight’s eyes were glowing so brightly now that they shone strongly through the sunlight, and a glow seemed to emerge from her mouth when it opened as well. “There will be no more innocent dead today. Prepare to remove your sword.”
“What is the… sorceress… planning, Velar?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “But I trust her. Starlight Glimmer has been a friend of Accipio since the beginning. She would not harm us now.” If it wasn’t for the armor, Velar might’ve felt the same horror that the birds all around them did. He had no doubt in his mind that his own men would’ve attacked her on sight, except for his presence beside her. He removed his helmet just to be sure they would all see as they got closer to the checkpoint, and the birds became more alert to possible danger.
“What are you going to do?” he asked Starlight, hoping his tone didn’t sound too judgmental. Given the amount of magic that seemed to be radiating off her, he didn’t want to provoke her into any kind of accidental emotion.
“They’re already mad with bloodlust,” she answered, and her voice seemed to carry strangely on the wind. “I will turn their rage against those more deserving.”
Here at the front, birds were mostly sheltering behind the barricade, occasionally popping out to fire their crossbows at advancing riflemen. It looked like the enemy probably could’ve pressed through at any moment. But they were building some kind of shield. They’re distracted killing civilians. Once they get that barrier up they’ll use it to advance without casualties.
It was what he would’ve done, sans the rape and pillaging. Virtue demanded better. As they made their way forward, Velar gestured for birds to get out of the way, letting Starlight all the way to the front. “What you’re describing…” Velar muttered, though there was little feeling left in his voice as he said it. “Doesn’t sound very honorable.”
“No,” she agreed, turning her back on him. “But honor is your problem, not mine. Tell your troops to drop their weapons now. I suspect your armor will protect you. But any who fails to do so will be vulnerable.”
Velar didn’t want to agree. It Starlight could really use this kind of magic, it would be a terrible thing. There would be songs sung of the loss, the betrayal.
But his own birds were dying now. Innocent citizens and their families. The slaves who had loved him so much they sent prayers for his passing. Creatures who deserved better. He stepped back and called upon the power of the armor to magnify his voice. “Birds of Accipio! Obey my command! Relinquish your weapons!”
There was no hesitation from the birds surrounding this checkpoint. With him right there, his confidence overwhelming, they obeyed. Swords and knives fell from belts, crossbows clattered to the floor. Anthony set his rifle down on the dirt road gently, obviously not wanting its delicate mechanisms to be damaged.
Then Starlight levitated over the barricade and landed on open ground. The birds on the other side had heard his orders, seen what the soldiers did—they started laughing.
“No quarter!” came the command from the back of their line. “Santiago wishes for no rebellions. Every bird on the palace grounds must die.” They charged.
Starlight seemed almost forgotten as she closed the distance. A few fired at her, and hardly noticed as their bullets were deflected off empty air.
I hope I’m not seeing the end of my house, Velar thought to himself, chest twisted with horror as he watched them come. They crossed the killing field and reached where Starlight was standing. Came close enough to be caught in the glow of green light.
The charge halted.
Velar watched them stagger, rifles and swords dipping a little. Then they seemed to notice each other. Velar could see eyes narrowing, beaks pulling back to reveal the sharp points underneath. Troops charging in from behind bumped up against the staggered lines, and the glow seemed to spread. A few disobedient birds from their own lines went charging out over the barricade, roaring in animalistic fury.
The first crack of rifle fire went off, and the army descended into chaos. Velar could see the rage ripple through them like a wave. Advancing troops stopped in place, turned, and began to tear each other limb from limb.
From the look of it, the spell didn’t affect every bird equally. Velar could see some officers from back in their lines shouting for order, and a few of their own birds screaming in terror instead of rage. Any who dropped their weapons were ignored, and the wave of violence passed them by. Any who didn’t were bathed in red.
Starlight Glimmer turned calmly on her hooves, though her eyes burned with the same green as all the others. “We should… get me to the palace,” she said, each word a great struggle. “If I die, the effects will end.”
“They’re killing each other,” Anthony whispered from beside her. “Ponies can do this? You could’ve… all this time…”
“Not just anypony,” Starlight Glimmer answered. “You need the right sorcerer, and the right target. Only those already mad with blood and death could be turned. Be glad you were made of something better.” She started walking back towards the palace, Velar following in stunned silence as the army of Vengeance began to eat itself alive.
Velar had to guide Starlight Glimmer most of the way into the palace. The pony barely seemed conscious—as though she were committing every aspect of herself to the magic. And a terrible spell it was. The smell of blood was rising from the city all around him, strong enough to overcome the flames of torched buildings. They were murdering innocent creatures. They were killing citizens and slaves alike. They weren’t going to spare any of the lives of those in the palace district. That would include the several monasteries on those grounds, which constituted several different religious crimes.
Even so, there was something terrifying about the sound of an army destroying itself. Blood brothers and friends and commanders and colleagues ripped each other apart as though they were the feral spawn of ancient chaos, while they left the unarmed alone.
He could hear the shouts of surprise and relief going up from the checkpoints. “Vengeance and Victory are fighting!” they yelled, the only way for ordinary soldiers to interpret what they were seeing. Velar knew it wasn’t so simple as that. The birds would kill each other until there was no one left, or Starlight’s magic ran out.
“Are you okay?” he asked her again. “If you need to stop, to rest…”
“No. New Scythia lives. Don’t interrupt until it’s done. I… won’t be able to go back to Equestria after this, so got to make it count…”
There was no saying just what that meant. But Velar didn’t interrupt her again, just led her the rest of the way to the palace steps.
A palanquin trundled out from inside, born by several of the palace servants and surrounded by a ragged band of Plumage Guard. Velar recognized his father’s form on the pillow, still wearing Voidsteel. He had one claw in the air and seemed to be gesturing for him.
Velar couldn’t fly, but he could run. He crossed the distance in a dozen strides, skidding to a halt at the edge of the armor. “Father!”
He didn’t look good. He had removed his helmet, and Velar could make out pale skin, dried blood, and a shake to his limbs. His eyes were glazed and unfocused.
“Why aren’t you with the healers?” Velar asked, unable to keep the frustration from his voice. “They could save you, father! Zoya’s magic…”
“That’s… quite the thing for you to say.” Gaius didn’t sound angry, though. He was grinning. “The last time I saw you, you were denying Zoya’s services yourself.” He shook his head. “If I allowed Zoya to perform the Renewal, I would be unconscious for the next few days at least. Under the circumstances… I didn’t think I would wake up.” He sat up suddenly, the armor creaking as he did so. Velar could see it—the Voidsteel was the only reason he was still able to move. The armor gave great strength to its wearer, even a set of damaged armor like this that leaked blood from his chest-wound.
Velar rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m here now. Starlight and I have this well in claw.” He looked past him. “Mateo, carry my father to the artificer’s tent. He will be—”
“Hold.” Gaius raised a claw, clutching it around Velar’s foreleg. “I never imagined I would see my son’s face again. The slaves were right—Unity did preserve you.”
Velar was done correcting. The pony doctors who had done the real work weren’t around to be offended, anyway. “Yes,” Velar said. “I now know why. We’re going to figure this out. We’ll save New Scythia.”
But Gaius didn’t let go. He yanked Velar down a little further, his voice low. “Look after your mother. Be the bird… that Accipio really needed.” His leg fell limply then, his father collapsed on the pillow. Velar’s eyes widened, and he glanced reflexively back at Starlight. But the unicorn wasn’t a doctor, and she was already occupied with saving the whole city.
“Mateo!” Velar shouted, probably a little too loudly. “Go on, get going! Get him to Zoya, right now!” They saluted, then turned to scurry off. But as Velar watched, he felt a terrible weight settle onto his shoulders. One he had dreaded for his entire life, but always known would come. He isn’t going to get better. Stupid old man… put it off too long. Zoya can do miracles with the old magic, but she can’t bring him back from the dead.
Even so, Gaius had remained at his post for the empire. He couldn’t be angry at him for that. Unity guide you, father. I hope I’m wrong.
“Someone’s coming!” The shout went up from the southern blockade, and Velar could barely make out what was approaching from that direction. But as he stared, his armor made the distant space seem closer.
A bird in Voidsteel was cutting through the melee, slaying every one of his own birds he met along the way to reach the palace. It was Santiago, apparently guessing the source of the chaos that had descended on his ranks. He hadn’t relinquished his weapons, but like Velar he had been protected from Starlight Glimmer’s spell. “Anthony!” Velar shouted, and at once not just Anthony but half a dozen of the Plumage Guard were around him. The transition had been as obvious to them as to Velar—they had seen the mantle of leadership passed.
“Get Starlight Glimmer out of sight,” he said. “Starlight, go with them. I will have to fight Santiago myself.”
The unicorn stepped up beside him, and for a moment he could almost hear the old Starlight through all her magic. “I am sorry I can’t help your father.” Then she left, following Anthony into the palace and out of sight. Considering her help in his last few battles, Velar wished she could’ve stuck around. She’s fighting all the other birds at once. To do my part I only need to fight one. Can’t let her show me up like that.
“Tell the birds to get out of Santiago’s way,” Velar ordered. “They can’t pick up their weapons to fight him, or they’ll be taken by the magic same as every other bird. Just get them to move, take cover. I’ll meet him myself.”
He didn’t have long to wait. Santiago struck the barricade with a massive warhammer, shattering it and sending bits and pieces of wood out of the way. An unlucky member of the Guard wasn’t out of the way fast enough and screamed as he was crushed by the assault. Santiago strode through the gore without slowing, making his way straight for the palace.
“I KNEW I SHOULD’VE SUSPECTED SOME EQUESTRIAN ABOMINATION!” he roared, his voice amplified by the armor just like Velar’s had been earlier. “IT’S JUST LIKE THEM TO RAISE THEIR HOOVES TO PROTECT THEIR PUPPETS. BUT I DIDN’T EXPECT THE ‘HONORABLE’ HOUSE VIRTUE TO BEND THE KNEE SO EASILY. IS THAT THE FUTURE YOU’VE CHOSEN FOR US, SLAVES TO EQUESTRIAN LORDS?”
Velar strode slightly to one side, extending one hoof. At his will, a longsword formed there, almost the length of his entire body and made of swirling black metal. “Yes, speak of honor, Santiago. The bird who sent his own ally to die, the bird who was in the very act of burning innocent citizens of the realm… entitled to proper ransom, and slaves entitled to lawful transfer of ownership. You’re slime, Santiago. Your birds receive what they deserve for their actions.”
Santiago stopped dead at the sound of Velar’s voice, staring at the armor. Every set of Voidsteel looked different with a new owner, but there were plenty of elements in common. He would know it had belonged to Giovanni, and what its transfer must mean. “You’re dead,” he said, no longer shouting. But the armor still made him loud enough to understand. “I saw…”
“You would hope so.” Velar advanced a few steps closer, swirling his longsword through the air in an elegant wave. “But Unity protects the virtuous. Unity safeguards the good of Accipio. Equestria destroyed your invasion fleet. Their ships are on their way here. Before you can mount a retreat, they will break you, and we will be helping them. Your betrayal had failed before it even began.”
Velar had hoped that Santiago might be broken by his previous conflicts—fighting those who wore Voidsteel was an ordeal, even for the winners. But he seemed only enraged by the battles, not exhausted as he should’ve been. Or maybe it’s seeing his army destroy itself and him being powerless to help. Had Starlight targeted Virtue birds, they would’ve turned to Zoya’s magic, and they could’ve undone any spell for a price in lives. Considering how many were dying, that probably would’ve been a small price.
But as it turned out, the most skillful zebras wanted nothing to do with a house whose treatment of slaves had earned it a foul reputation. Magic was not a typical weapon for the griffons, and since inter-empire conflicts had never involved other powers before…
“So, you’re a traitor then,” Santiago finally said. “You’re complicit with the Equestrians. They saved your life, and now you’re their slave, slicing the empire into pieces at their will. You should join with my army and turn against the invaders. Together, perhaps we could head them off.”
Velar laughed. “You murder my father and on the same day ask me to fight the ones who saved my life? The ones who wanted only peaceful coexistence with Accipio? I’ve seen Equestria, Santiago. I know they weren’t planning to betray us. All they wanted was for us to stay in our borders and let them live out the catastrophe in safety.”
“Liar!” Santiago advanced towards him. The two began circling—birds cleared out of the way, vacating the space around them. There was no getting between two bearers like them when it came time for a battle. No unarmored bird could make a difference. “They gave us fallow ground. They deprived us of our freedom—demanded we enslave ourselves to their rules. Each new restriction on us was a single thread, Velar. Each one is easy to break on its own, but braided together they would’ve made a noose to hang us. You should’ve seen what they did to Griffonstone. Those birds wanted to be strong, but their spirits had been stolen. They were consumed with petty rivalries, selfishness… I gave them purpose. I even married one of them, though I’ve been separated from her thanks to the Equestrians and their oppressive laws. Is it just to prevent me from seeing my wife, Velar?”
Well that explains how you won over Griffonstone. Political marriages were as old as Accipio itself, though it had been particularly bold of Santiago to marry an outsider. It worked out well for him I guess. Somewhere to manufacture illegal weapons, and a wedge into Equestrian territory. “I’m sure they wouldn’t have restricted you if you didn’t use the monastery to make guns. You could’ve grown wheat and vegetables there, and our ships would still be flowing.”
But Santiago had never been as good a tactitan as Velar himself, even if their dueling records were similar. His father had been the real general of house Vengeance. If you were smart, you would’ve tried to retreat your army. Maybe if they dropped their weapons they would be free from the spell too, and you wouldn’t have to lose them.
But they hadn’t, and now they were killing each other.
“Are you still a male, Velar? Or did they geld you up in one of their cities, turn you into their puppet?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I challenge house Virtue to the throne of Accipio under the sacred law of Unity. Do you still care about our laws, or do only pony rules matter to you now?”
“I accept your challenge in my father’s name,” Velar answered, loud enough that all his men could hear. The meaning of that statement was obvious—the loser would relinquish their right to rule. If Velar lost, that meant Santiago would become the emperor. If he won, then his army would surrender. Assuming any of them are left. “Send word to your ships through my messengers. It would be improper for Accipian ships to destroy each other.”
Santiago’s eyes narrowed, and Velar could see him about to deny his terms. But then he nodded. “Very well. Bring me a quill. We will do as Unity requires of us.”
And to the victor go the spoils. All Accipio. What’s left of it.
“Evacuate the palace,” Velar whispered to Anthony, his voice low. “You can’t raise your weapons to help me, or else be taken by Starlight’s spell. I’ll have to fight this alone.”
“You’re more than an equal to him,” Anthony whispered back, before saluting one last time. “It’s our turn for some revenge, Velar. For your old man.”
“We’ll have it.” And he meant it. House Virtue was more than deserving after all that Vengeance had done to their city. And to his family.
Anthony rushed off. The evacuation order spread through distant shouts. Velar couldn’t follow them, or help. He would have to hope that they could figure things out. Santiago was just the sort of bird to try to use some helpless creature as a hostage to make him surrender… and he couldn’t, not with the terms set as they were. He would kill far more than any one bird, even if that bird was his mother. Or if they were Starlight.
Santiago seemed to guess what he was thinking, because he laughed bitterly. “You think I would dare involve someone not party to our duel? Well, maybe you’re not as dumb as you look.” He smacked the side of his head, and the helmet clanked down. “It was supposed to be your father who knew my vengeance, not you. You should’ve made like a good bird and stayed dead.”
“Unity protects the ones he loves,” Velar said, knocking his own helmet down with a smack. With a little effort of will, Velar summoned his weapon, which bled metal off his body in little rivulets until it had appeared there. A greatsword, easily as long as his entire body, surprisingly light for its size. But not weightless—it would still have inertia.
Santiago’s own weapon—a massive spiked warhammer—appeared a moment later. “You repeat the lies your priests whisper to slaves. You and I both know that they aren’t true. If Unity exists at all, it is to reward those who triumph and to punish the weak. Unity will judge me the better ruler for the empire, and the world after that.”
“We’ll see,” Velar said, rising up onto his hind legs. It was a fairly difficult position, one that few birds could master. Ancientstance granted greater reach and flexibility than many other forms, but far less stability. Santiago was no plush bird, pampered up in a palace. He assumed a perfect stance with his warhammer, low and ready to swing. “I don’t think Unity would judge your actions as strength. Trying to take advantage of Equestria at a time when we needed them most. They gave us kindness, and you rewarded them with a dagger.”
He swung—not swift enough that he expected to hit anything. And he didn’t—Santiago backed away, then followed up with his own strike. Not really aimed at Velar either, but the ground he was standing on. Stone splintered, but neither bird was hurt. It was only the opening exchange.
Velar’s own swing had enough momentum with it that he had to continue forward, towards the empty thrones. The high table was already on its side, and many of the benches the nobility used were overturned or hacked up. Was there a battle in here already? I thought Vengeance hadn’t breached the palace yet.
“It will be good to finally return the ponies to their place,” Santiago said, lifting his hammer high for another strike. But still they remained at a distance, each just on the edge of their reach. “They’ve remained unconquered for too long. Lording over us with myths about the sun and stories about immortality. We’ll see all that torn down when this is over… or, if some of it is true, then shared. Your father never should’ve accepted a peace bargain. Mine would’ve happily led the invasion in perfect loyalty. Fighting like this… only weakens us. We will need more tenacity when we fight Equestria.
“You will need an army,” Velar said, grinning smugly in his helmet. “A single Equestrian destroyed yours. If they’re not finished killing each other, they will be by the time I’m done with you.”
Santiago roared, smashing his warhammer down again, not even aiming at Velar this time. The stone above the castle basement was far weaker than his armor—it splintered, and Velar went tumbling with a screech. His whole body rumbled and thumped for a few seconds, until he crashed to the ground like a bag full of glass.
He was standing in the granary, surrounded by barrels of ale and huge bags of grain. His sword was on the other side of the room—and Santiago leapt down towards him, ready for another mighty swing of his hammer.
It was a long fall, long enough for Velar to dodge. Well, some of it. He couldn’t avoid the blow entirely, but he’d rather get hit by a bird in armor than a warhammer specifically chosen to shatter Voidsteel. Even so, he felt his breastplate crack under the impact, and one of the smaller plates on his hind legs shatter completely.
Velar ignored the pain, rolling Santiago off his back and smashing him into the ground with all the force he could. The hammer flew out of his hand, even as Velar smashed it against the stone basement. His gauntlet exploded, and Velar kept smashing, holding him down until his helmet started to crack.
But then Santiago threw him off and leapt onto him in a grapple.
It was as though all their many years of civilization were forgotten in an instant, and they were two wild predators meeting again in a jungle. Their massive armor hardly slowed them down as they battered together, first a slash from Velar, then a tackle from Santiago. They crashed together through a shelf of wine, and bright red liquid spilled all around them. Santiago held him down a second, apparently not realizing that Velar’s helmet was undamaged and that he couldn’t be drowned. But Velar reached down, gripped his sword from where it had fallen, and banished it away.
Then he was hoisted back up and kicked again.
Velar soared through the air, straight up through the opening they’d made to skid along the floor of the throne room. Benches shattered to splinters, though a few chunks sunk through one shoulder plate and into his flesh. Velar moaned, remember his training. He could hear pounding from downstairs—Santiago climbing. His armor couldn’t fly.
He burst through an open doorway moments later, clutching his warhammer in both claws again, and dripping with red liquid. Velar imagined it was all the blood of New Scythia, called back from the slaughter Santiago had ordered.
“Pitiful,” he said, advancing slowly across the room. “First blood already. I was hoping you would let me enjoy this. After the first time, I imagined you would be harder to kill.”
Velar didn’t call forth another weapon, though the sight of Santiago advancing towards him with a massive warhammer raised certainly made it hard to resist. One more blow might shatter his breastplate, and if that happened… the fight would be over. “You’re overestimating yourself,” Velar panted, backing up towards the throne. “I was ranked higher than you in the dueling ladder. Back in Accipio… you’re just seeing what you want to see.” He reached down, yanking out the chunk of wood in his knee. No sooner had he done it than the armor sealed down over him. It couldn’t heal the wound, but it would stop him from bleeding to death. At least until it’s removed, or the whole leg shatters. It was only buying time.
“Dueling is another lie,” Santiago said, smashing through the high table with his warhammer. He didn’t need to—but there was nothing stopping him either. Ancient wood went everywhere, and there was now nothing between them. Velar couldn’t back up any further, not with the throne behind him. “Think about it. Dueling is like honor—a list of rules, rules that prevent us from getting things done quickly. This war would never have happened without honor—we would’ve gone straight for Equestria’s capital, spent all those months training for an invasion. I’m sure you could’ve tortured that unicorn enough to write whatever letters back we wanted.” He lowered his voice dangerously. “When I get my claws on her, I know I’ll keep her alive long enough to enjoy it. I’ll never get back what’s owed to me after what she did to my army, but I can sure try. And… maybe pay the ponies back, once we reach Canterlot. That city is too proud.”
He shoved through the ruined wood towards Velar. Velar kept still, clutching at his wounded leg. Santiago swung.
But Velar wasn’t much slowed. While the huge hammer soared over his head, only the rod glanced off his back as he passed inside its reach. Velar tackled Santiago again, this time smashing him sideways into his mother’s throne. Broken marble showered down around them in a dusty haze, even as the back of Santiago’s breastplate cracked.
“That’s for trying to kill me!” he screamed, smashing Santiago’s head against the back of the throne. The helmet shattered into bits of dark metal, dissolving to smoke around his neck and drifting away. He gripped firmly against his shoulders, going back for another blow—but too slow. Santiago kicked him, and he staggered backward.
“Your mistake…” Santiago breathed, reaching under the gap in his armor with a claw. “...was assuming others live by the same rules.” A handgun emerged from inside, its barrel almost as wide as Velar’s eye.
He acted by reflex, trying to doge. But they were so close—Santiago couldn’t have missed if he tried.
There was a deafening explosion in the throne room. He thought he saw the gun explode in Santiago’s hand, sending bits of shrapnel in all directions and taking the claw with it.
Then Velar felt a charging buffalo strike him in the chest. The ground blurred past him, and the world turned to foggy haze. He heard a distant voice, maybe Santiago’s voice, maybe just the ringing of burst eardrums. It hurt everywhere, but he forced himself to look down. His breastplate had shattered, and the armor on his limbs was getting heavy. It had probably saved his life—but he was already losing speed.
Velar was only half aware, but he forced himself to his feet anyway, staring down Santiago as he advanced. The other griffon limped, avoiding putting his weight on the reddish blur that was his claw.
“Meaningless…” Santiago was saying, his voice drifting in and out. His warhammer banged and clanked as he dragged it along the hall towards him “Your priestess is the best in the world, and all… blood. To grow it back. When this is over, there will be plenty of blood to spare. I wonder whose I will use… Starlight Glimmer’s? Or Guinevere’s?” He reared onto his back legs, gripping the warhammer in his one good claw. He wouldn’t have to move much to bring it down on Velar, who could barely move to begin with.
Greater reach. But less mobility. Velar faced Santiago down, his whole body shaking. His limbs were freezing in place. He had enough energy left for one more movement, perhaps, before the whole suit locked and he would need technicians to remove it.
“Goodbye, Velar,” Santiago said, spitting blood onto him. “I’ll be a good emperor, I promise you that. Say hello to Gaius for me.”
He swung. Now. Velar focused his will, calling back his weapon—a pike this time, that appeared from Voidsteel. He surged forward into it, gripping it with both claws and driving it up through Santiago’s exposed neck. He felt hot blood for another few seconds, the crash as his hammer shattered a wall behind him.
A few coughing splutters escaped Santiago, his eyes wide with terror. Then he fell limp, and his weight took Velar down with him.
Velar fell hard, feeling his other shoulder shatter as he went down. But it didn’t matter—Santiago didn’t get up.
Velar collapsed to the floor, panting from the exertion and the pain of so many wounds. His Voidsteel had been so badly damaged that he could see it fuzzing away in places, little cracks of light leaking out from within. It would need to be contained again soon, or it would begin to feed on its wearer to repair itself.
But he couldn’t bring himself to care about that, or much of anything. Velar had done everything he could for Accipio. It was time for his fellow birds to pick up a little slack.
He spent an hour or two drifting between conscious and unconscious, the dreams of delirium and injury and maybe the ancient magic he wore. As he lay there on the stone, he imagined he could see ancient armies in the age before civilization, when ponies and griffons had fought together against a hunger that could never be sated.
But then something brought him back. Guinevere appeared before him, along with her train of engineers and attendants. They’d brought a vessel, along with tools. “M-mother…” he croaked, forcing himself into a sitting position even though he didn’t have the energy. “Is… my father…”
Guinevere shook her head. Her voice drifted in like a distant wind, her words only partially heard and always out of focus. “Every brave bird I know gave themselves for… looks like you almost did as well. Some of these wounds are serious.”
He nodded. “Some are. When you… take the armor off… be careful. I might bleed to death.”
His mother actually laughed. “I’ve been caring for Voidsteel since before you were hatched, child. Relax.”
“Get me…” he croaked, then dissolved into hacking coughs. A few seconds later he tried again. “If you can find me a pony doctor… that would be helpful. I don’t want the old magic. Zoya… has done a great service for the house. But there’s been enough blood, I don’t want any more spent for me.”
He wasn’t sure what his mother said next, or any of the other birds in her group. But he didn’t really care. He was vaguely conscious of their work as the armor was removed, and his many wounds were bandaged. He thought he saw a group of ponies arrive in white, medical uniforms, but he couldn’t have said for certain. He’d spent so long around ponies dressed like that after he’d been shot that he still sometimes saw them out of the corner of his eye when he was on the edge of consciousness.
Eventually he slipped away, and rest found him at last.
When he woke, he was in the throne room. He was looking up at the carved ceiling, thankfully not below any of the massive holes that his battle had created. The throne room was largely empty—no court today, no crowd of bickering nobility.
He sat up and found the relative numbness the Voidsteel gave him had been revoked. His whole body ached now, some places worse than others. Looking down showed him a body covered with bandages, tight enough that he couldn’t move as much as he might’ve liked. But at least he didn’t feel any of the persistent soreness of infection. The Equestrian doctors have done it again.
“W-who’s there?” he asked, trying not to sound too desperate. “I’m… thirsty.”
A glass of water appeared beside him, glowing in green magic. Starlight Glimmer emerged from behind the bed a second later. “Hey.”
Was that always her color?
“Hey.” He took it in one claw and drained the whole thing. Most of it went onto the bed, but it did help. “You’re still alive.”
“Alive, yeah,” she said. “So long as you restrict your measurements to the physical. Politically… well.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I kind of committed like a dozen capital crimes saving New Scythia yesterday. And let’s just say that I’d already be in Tartarus if this was Equestria.”
“But it isn’t,” said another voice. Guinevere wore her full, formal robes, and from the sound of her voice she’d been sitting near the throne. But her wings fluttered for a moment, then she settled down just beside him. “For the moment, Starlight Glimmer is under the auspices of our protection. Her magic ended the worst slaughter in memory. House Virtue would not even still exist without her.”
“Yes, well…” Starlight Glimmer made a vague, indecisive sound. “I don’t think the princesses see it that way. Dark magic tends to… corrupt… the ones who use it. Even if I knew what I was doing, they’ll see me as a danger. Unless you somehow made it impossible for them… they’ll insist on giving me up. They’ll say you’re unsuited to contain the danger I pose, that the magic I turned against the deserving last night might be cast on innocents next. And they might be right.”
“What… what happened exactly?” Velar tried to rise out of bed, but Starlight Glimmer pushed him back. “After the battle started, I… kinda lost touch with everything else.”
“Equestria lost a lot of ships,” Starlight said. “We were badly outnumbered, and Vengeance was prepared. But our reinforcements kept arriving. Once the rest of the Lunar Fleet got here, word had gotten back to the admirals what you’d done to Santiago. They surrendered. Good thing too—my spell wouldn’t work at those distances.”
“The army was decimated,” Guinevere continued. “Our ships were unarmed and helpless, most of them were destroyed in drydock. New Scythia is occupied by the Equestrian Navy. They haven’t landed troops, but if they wanted to…” She shrugged her wings. “Well, you’re the one who needed to know.”
“Not you?” Starlight asked, without malice. “You’re the empress. Even with your husband’s… passing…”
“I’m the regent now,” Guinevere said. “In all the time you’ve lived with us, Starlight, I’m surprised you didn’t expect this one. There must be an emperor, and imperium passes through his line. Either that, or the office is claimed through blood. Santiago’s supporters would argue that the wounds he inflicted on Gaius caused his death, which would mean he is the rightful ruler. But then my son killed him, restoring the office to our house. Either way, Velar now rules. Or… would. If he had a wife. The emperor’s office cannot be filled by one bird, there must always be two.”
Velar’s mind swam. He’d known this day would come his entire life—dreaded it more than anything. He’d half imagined that his father would live forever, and that he would inherit the throne for a few years in his own old age, before passing it along to his son.
But his mother was right. Being emperor required a spouse. The same requirement would be imposed on him if something unfortunate happened to his wife while ruling. His eyes settled on Starlight Glimmer. “You said… Equestria will want your head, right? That asylum wouldn’t be enough to keep you from prison.”
“Not just prison.” Starlight sat back on her haunches, grinning ruefully. “Tartarus is… a distant, magical realm, filled with the demons of the past. I would probably be chained up there alongside some of the worst tormentors the world ever had.”
Some ancient instinct of Velar’s wanted to argue a story like that. But considering what Starlight Glimmer had accomplished—what he’d seen from ponies during his stay in Equestria—he figured he could start giving them the benefit of the doubt.
“Right,” he said, glancing meaningfully at Guinevere. Would she understand what he meant? Apparently yes, because behind Starlight she removed something from her head. The wrought platinum and white-gold diadem worn by the empress.
“But I wonder…” he went on. “What if we could give you more than just asylum? What if you were the Empress of Accipio? Would they still try to punish you then?”
“Obviously not, that would—” She trailed off, her ears suddenly flattening. Starlight Glimmer might be a little slow when it came to connecting griffon customs, but she had been living with them for a long time now. She could listen well enough. “Wait.” She sounded more confused than upset, which he hoped was a good thing. “Isn’t that… wouldn’t that mean…”
He nodded. “Asking a bird you’re courting is supposed to be an elaborate ritual. Every generation tries to make it a little more elaborate than the one before. But my city just got burned down, my father is dead… after everything you’ve done for me, I don’t want to lose you too. Please.” He gestured, and Guinevere set the thin metal crown onto the cot in front of Starlight. It was too large for a pony head—but they had blacksmiths for that.
“No pressure, right?” Starlight said, laughing quietly. “A lifetime with a selfless, honorable bird like you… or an eternity in demon prison. You drive a hard bargain.” Then she kissed him.
It wasn’t the best kiss Velar had ever experienced. But under the circumstances, he knew it was one he’d remember.
Equestria didn’t wait long to send in its negotiators—Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends, as it turned out. They had a long list of demands for the griffon nation, one that started with the surrender of Starlight Glimmer just as his new betrothed had suggested.
But Velar was right about her becoming empress. As soon as the princess heard that, Twilight seemed almost relieved.
“These other demands are inflexible,” Twilight Sparkle said. “And yes, we’re calling them demands this time.” She flicked her wing up at the destroyed palace around them. “We negotiated with you like you were ponies, last time. We won’t make that mistake again.”
Velar was standing on his own legs, or at least sitting in the throne under his own power, but he was still wrapped in bandage and weak from his many wounds. “Tell me,” Velar said. “You’ll have to read the document for me. I can’t.”
Starlight levitated it over. She wore the crown now and sat in the throne beside him. The ritual wasn’t complete yet—it had to wait for the right phase of the moon. But that didn’t matter. She was empress now.
“An immediate end to the slavery of all ponies currently held captive,” said the very first point. “And an end to captivity for all other creatures within the year. A public commitment under oath not to reinstate the practice once you have returned to your home territory.”
Velar hissed under his breath, but didn’t actually argue. He’d known that point was coming. The other demands were just as harsh, and ended with the presence of military police in every city to enforce the provisions. In many ways, it was everything that Accipio had feared Equestria would demand. The slavery that Santiago had promised this peace agreement would bring. He’d been right, in a small way.
But now Accipio was in no place to resist. And for many of these new rules, he didn’t even want to. I told Starlight that this would collapse our economy. This war has probably already done that—it can’t get much worse, can it? It was like a bandage—it was best just to rip the whole thing off at once, instead of peeling carefully.
“Accipio has only one concern,” he said, once he’d finished listening to the list. He was an emperor now, and this was his palace. He didn’t wait for Twilight’s permission. “With the land you’ve given us, these provisions are impossible. Look outside—” He couldn’t actually move to do it by way of demonstration, but he could point at the windows.
“That’s a desert, out there. I notice there were no promises in there to return our weather ponies and provide them to the other cities. With those rules, we will certainly starve. Even if I enforce them, my government will collapse, and you will have millions of starving, angry birds flying north on Equestria.” The implication there went unsaid. It had been a long time since his kind had eaten ponies, but if Equestria starved them…
“Oh, yeah.” It was one of Twilight’s companions. The orange one. “We’ve up and figured a way for that already. See… we’ve got some better land picked out. It was a real mess to find it, and it’ll probably be another right mess to fly you there. But I’m sure there’s a way…” She nodded towards Twilight. “Let her worry about the logistics.”
“Better land…” Velar said. “I… have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The carrot for that stick,” Twilight Sparkle said. “There is… a great deal of fertile land north of Equestria. Or there will be. We’ve been turning the towers on one at a time… ponies are already clamoring to move up there, so you’ll probably have some settlers joining you. Some settlers that will be protected under these new laws, I might add.”
“Woah.” Starlight Glimmer’s eyes widened. “You found the Crystal Empire’s weather network? It still works?”
Twilight seemed a little pained to answer—the same way she looked whenever Starlight spoke. But she still answered. “We’re still working out the kinks, but… it works. And the ones living there won’t need weather teams, just technicians to keep the towers running. Those technicians could be of any race… the magic comes from the Crystal Heart, not from the ones running it.”
Under any other circumstance, Velar knew that it would’ve been impossible to get Accipio to cooperate with such terrible demands. But Vengeance and Victory had already pushed their cities to near starvation. With their armies slaughtered, the birds who remained would take food in exchange for obedience. As for his own birds… he wasn’t the only one happy to see a few changes around Accipio.
The slaves who had sent him prayers of health and swift passage to Unity now formed his strongest supporters. Where his father would be remembered as Gaius the Unifier, he would be Velar the Liberator.
Accipio as an empire was dead, the old clans shattered and their web of ancient allegiances meaningless. But something new could be born from its corpse—Accipio the Republic. Many of the institutions were already in place.
They ended up living in the Crystal Empire for less time than ponies had probably imagined. Their new empress was just as passionate for engineering and invention as the old one—just of a different kind. And she had an excellent set of new technologies to reverse-engineer.
A few years later…
Velar felt the warmth of the weather-projector, even if it was hundreds of feet above them. The blimp lowered itself into position almost directly above Scythia.
But only the palace district had been cleaned—most of the rest of it looked like a city swallowed by a desert, a desert of white ash and flame.
“Projection is good…” said the empress, landing beside him with a half-dozen different instruments and papers following her through the air like her attendants. “We’re losing less than three percent over the ocean. I’d say the construction crew was right. Scythia is safe for habitation.”
Of course, she had real attendants too. Gina, of his father’s staff, supervising the military police. A number of Griffinstone representatives, here to determine if they wished to fly west with the rest of their kind.
“Did they… say if they’d finished excavating the tomb?” Velar asked. “I remember sealing it before we left, it shouldn’t take much. Just got to get to the door.”
Starlight leaned briefly against him, ignoring her instruments. Velar didn’t mind showing her a little weakness. “They have.”
“Then… radio to my father’s escort. There’s one thing I have to do… before the old empire can finally rest.”
